The Avengers Amalgamation
by dudeurfugly
Summary: "She's a genetically engineered life form made up of DNA from our super group. Get your minds out of the gutter." Banner and Stark's latest project forces the team to take on a complicated responsibility. SHIELD isn't happy with the results and is eager to do damage control. Loki wants no part in it, but finds he may have more in common with her than he realizes.
1. Frankenvenger

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. **

**A/N: This is my first Avengers fic so I'm _extremely_ nervous about posting it. It's just a really weird idea I got one day and decided to run with it, because, why not? I know it's far-fetched and requires a ton of suspension of disbelief, but I hope it's at least enjoyable if not entertaining. Special thanks to my friend Olivia for reading this over, giving advice, and encouraging me to write it down. Let me know what you think!**

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**Chapter One**

Rain droplets made their winding descent down the floor-to-ceiling windowpanes of Stark Tower as New York City was doused in a generous afternoon summer storm. Thin fog rose above the metropolitan landscape, skyscrapers peeking through the haze. Eyebrows knit together, Steve watched the rain fall with his hands planted on his hips.

"So, you're really not going to tell us what Stark and Banner are up to?"

Behind him, Natasha gave an annoyed sigh. She was lounging on the couch with her legs across Clint's lap. "For the last time, I told you their nerdy science project is classified. I'm sworn to secrecy."

"It's been _months_." Steve turned around, exasperated, throwing his hands in the air. Natasha rolled her eyes. She found Rogers' melodramatic diva moods more than irritating. Clint, who had his gaze fixed on the TV engrossed in a video game, enjoyed Natasha and Steve's epic bitch-offs.

"Whatever the hell they're working on, they can damn well share with the class. We're supposed to be a team."

"I am _not_ in the mood for your afterschool special, Mister Rogers," Natasha said. "Leave the geeks in their natural habitat. They haven't broken anything."

"_Yet_," Steve countered. "How come you get to know the big secrets while the rest of sit here twiddling our thumbs?"

Clint let out a barely suppressed snort at Steve's turn of phrase, to which Steve fixed him with a hard stare. Clint didn't see it, but he could practically feel the glacial frown smack him in the side of the face. He guessed it might have been due to the fact that he had a habit of calling Steve "gramps," and "old man." But to be fair, Steve was always dishing out old timey lectures and couldn't work a single piece of technology in Stark Tower without assistance or written directions to save his life. There were brightly colored Post-It notes stuck onto kitchen appliances and electronics in Pepper's neat handwriting as proof. At least Thor thought they were helpful.

"That information is also classified."

"Remember who you're talking to, Cap," Clint advised.

Steve all but bit his tongue and pivoted on a heel to continue glaring daggers out the window. Tony and Bruce's latest endeavor was grating on his last nerve. He recalled a discussion full of jazzy science lingo and something about experimentation with their team's extraordinary genetics. Before Steve knew what was going on, he had a 21st Century-induced headache, and they had hunkered down in the lab.

Months later, a little supposedly "harmless" testing had turned into full-blown scientific hibernation. The lab became off-limits and hermetically sealed. Tony and Bruce emerged for basic human necessities, although Clint had started to question the last time they had taken a proper shower. The notion of shaving had been thrown out the window long ago and Bruce was beginning to resemble a Discovery Channel survivalist reality star. (According to Thor, who watched too much television for his own good.) Coffee was consumed at such an alarming rate these days that Natasha was certain Banner and Stark had found a way to replace their blood with straight-up caffeine. Meals were silent, awkward, and tense—reminiscent of their first dinner as a group. Thor watched in quiet awe (Loki in pure mortification and absolute disgust) while Tony and Bruce shoveled down their food faster than they could breathe. Neither one offered up any progress about their work and shuffled off down to their science lair like zombies. Pepper had made the mistake of asking and was treated with a few sharp grumbles and the fiercest Stark bitchface she had seen yet.

Garnering information was useless unless you happened to be Natasha Romanoff, who had been summoned down to the lab early on in their scientific shenanigans. She returned looking paler than usual and a little stunned. Steve had kept bothering her ever since, unconvinced that what Tony and Bruce were slaving over was as harmless as they claimed it to be. Those arguments never ended well. Typically, if the fights escalated, the resolution came in the form of demolished furniture, new bruises, and Thor pulling them apart. (While Clint laughed and Loki pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.) He should have known better by now, but the whole situation at hand was trying everyone's already thin patience.

"So, any word from our favorite science bros?" Pepper's voice echoed along with her heels against the floor. "Everyone still in one piece? Furniture mostly intact?"

Pepper took their relative silence as an affirmative to the latter questions. Steve watched her descend the steps and drop several paper bags on the center table. It was the first time Clint had torn his eyes away from the video game.

"Haven't seen them since their last coffee break," Natasha glanced at the clock, "which was about seven hours ago."

"Sounds about right," Pepper said. "I brought Chinese takeout."

Clint was the first to make a move for the piping hot bags of food, pushing Natasha's legs off his lap and dropping the game controller in rapid succession. Thor, who had the uncanny ability to pick up on the aroma of food from an impressive radius anywhere in the tower, was heard stomping down a nearby hall. It was always a betting game to see whether Loki would show up for dinner or one of them would have to leave the food outside his door. (Which was decided by an aggressive straw pull.) Today felt like a no-show, but the team was surprised when he sidled into the room wearing his ever-present scowl.

They settled into their painfully awkward eating rituals, sprawled across couches and chairs in the living room with cartons overflowing with lo mein, sweet and sour chicken, fried rice, and assorted other dishes spread over tables and laps. Steve couldn't hide his smirk while Thor struggled with the chopsticks (as usual) and splintered both of them into pieces in his bear claw-like hands. When he thought no one was looking—but everyone was—he chose to tip the carton of noodles into his mouth instead. Clint choked on a spoonful of fried rice and Natasha had to smack him in the center of the back. Loki almost looked thankful when Pepper cut through the tension by clearing her throat.

"Do you think there's any hope of luring them out with food?" she asked.

"I wouldn't press your luck," Steve answered. At least her tone of irritation matched his. He was gaining an ally. Or so he hoped.

"You're right," she laughed. "Even if they took the bait I'd probably lose a few fingers."

"They must appear eventually," Thor offered.

"That's what we said that one week, remember? They didn't eat at all." Clint spoke around a mouthful of General Tso's chicken.

"And you were convinced they were living off freeze-dried meals and astronaut ice cream," Natasha said.

"That wouldn't surprise me." Pepper said with a shake of her head. "Well, if food isn't enticing enough, I say we stage a protest."

"Finally, someone who speaks some sense," Steve said, as if the sunlight had at long last broken through the dreary weather.

"Wouldn't it be easier if Thor and Cap broke down the door?" Natasha suggested.

"It would, but you know how Tony gets when people ruin his stuff," Pepper replied. "And the lab is like hallowed ground."

The group lapsed into a lull, replaced with the light pitter-patter of rain against the windows, before Steve leapt up from his seat. Determination was set into his face. He wasn't going to stand for this secretive business for much longer. With a grin, Thor followed suit, spilling the last of his sweet and sour chicken in his rush. One by one, they tore themselves away from the remnants of their meal (Loki rounding out the group with his arms crossed defiantly over his chest). They piled into the elevator for a short but uncomfortable trip. Those close quarters were never enough to house the sheer amount of muscle between them all without at least one of them getting agitated. Namely Loki, who spent the duration of the ride pressed as far into the corner as he could manage without cutting dents into the wall with his bony elbows.

The lab spanned the entirety of the floor, but the plate-glass entrance to the gigantic workspace had been boarded up and covered with sheets from the inside. It looked absolutely ridiculous; a cross between a questionable demolition site and a hazmat situation. Neither one of them could hear a sound from the inside, which left the floor in a state of eerie calm. Natasha resigned herself to the current circumstances and leaned against the wall, deeming their efforts pointless. Pepper instructed JARVIS to tell Tony and Bruce that their disgruntled teammates wanted a word with them, although Steve and Loki appeared to be disgruntled enough for the six of them and then some.

Clint stared forlornly at the closed elevator doors as if he was still thinking about the half-eaten takeout they had abandoned upstairs. It was something to distract him from the steadily growing cloud of anger that was forming over Steve's head. Thor was contemplating Natasha's prior suggestion to rip the door from its hinges or punch a hole in the plywood-sheet combination barrier just to quell his curiosity. They waited, impatient, for any signs of movement from the lab. Minutes ticked by and the aggravation started to swell into the very beginnings of concealed rage. It seemed like everyone was finally getting to Steve's level of frustration. Pepper tapped her foot against the floor—used to Tony's penchant for taking his sweet ass time to do anything at the request of another person—and made a move to knock on the barricaded entrance.

A haggard, bleary-eyed Tony slipped out of the lab and shut the door behind him. After raking a hand through his hair, he regarded the group, his facial hair nearly seared off from the amount of rage Steve was emitting alone. If Steve's eyebrows pulled together he was sure the guy would bust a vein. Tony threw his hands up in front of him in a show of surrender, afraid that he'd be pounced on at a moment's notice. Steve looked about ready to, and so did Pepper.

"Want to tell us what you two have been keeping a secret, or are you going to just let this continue and see how long we can go without breaking in ourselves?" he demanded.

Tony bit back a smartass remark and sighed. "All right. Here's the deal. Now," he said slowly, "don't freak out."

Pepper buried her face in her palm. "_That_ preamble is never a good sign."

Clint and Thor exchanged concerned glances behind Natasha's back. Steve crossed his arms over his broad chest. Loki pretended to be more interested in the cracks in the floor than anything Stark had to say, ever.

"Just," he continued in his cautious tone, "a fair warning. Y'know. Before the claws come out and you take turns ripping me to shreds."

"Get on with it, Stark," Natasha told him.

There was a moment's hesitation before Tony knocked on the lab door. The mood in the hallway shifted in an instant as everyone waited on bated breath for proof of whatever groundbreaking project the two of them had been devoting their round-the-clock efforts to these past several months. Bruce emerged, freshly shaven but still sleep deprived and unkempt. Mouths dropped, speechless, in a mix of abject confusion and a range emotion that could not be described in coherent sentences. He had an _infant_—by estimation, several months in age; undeniably not a newborn child—cradled in his arms as if he was terribly afraid he would break it at any given second. Bruce's steps were wary, but his expressive brown eyes were filled with such a doting father look it was distracting from the overall situation. Puzzled was an understatement. Mild concern didn't even come close.

Tony thought he heard a chorus of crickets for the duration of more unbearably awkward silence. The team traded glances; first at Bruce and the infant, then at Natasha, who, despite being in on the whole project, seemed to be in the same state of utter shock. Pepper made a noise like she was going to say something and then stopped. Clint held a blatant stare at Natasha with amusement in a ghost of a smirk. The question to end all questions circulating around everyone's mind was what Pepper finally managed to ask.

"_What the _hell_ were you two doing in there_?"

"Honestly, it's not what it looks like," was Tony's response.

"Oh, _really_? Then you might want to explain yourself." She had to turn away from him for fear of delivering a punch to his face. "I always knew you morons would find a way to procreate with your freak nerd brains." She pushed her fingers into her forehead like she was massaging away a headache. "This _cannot_ be happening right now."

Steve made the effort to pick his jaw up off the floor. "I don't know what stunt you're trying to pull here, but this…this…is what you call a harmless experiment?" He turned around quickly to face Natasha. "And you _knew_ about it?"

"I didn't think it would actually _work_," Natasha replied, voice rising. "Although, with their track record I should have given them a little more credit."

"Damn straight," Tony agreed.

Pepper shot him a steely frown. "Still waiting for that explanation, boys."

The baby cooed and wrapped one pudgy hand around Bruce's index finger. "We spent a few days analyzing DNA samples from everyone on the team. We had an idea to pull the most desirable traits from each person and recombine them in a non-conflicting code—"

"In English," Steve groaned.

Tony gave a Vanna White-esque gesture to the gurgling baby. "She's a genetically engineered life form made up of DNA from our super group. Get your minds out of the gutter."

"You agreed to this?" Steve asked Natasha, who shrugged.

"It's clearly one of those 'it seemed like a good idea at the time' failures in judgment," Natasha stated.

"_Why_?" Pepper asked. She was itching to smack Tony in the face, Steve could tell. "Don't tell me you got bored."

Bruce sought out Tony, who obviously did not have a decent explanation for any of this. Clint couldn't stifle his rather unattractive snort.

"So, you guys just figured, 'what the hell, let's grow a baby' and satisfied your nerd boner with a scientific one night stand?"

No one seemed to know whether or not to laugh or start a fight. Thor observed the banter, one hand on his chin as if he was trying really hard to work out what exactly had happened. Based on what few Norse myths Natasha had read, she could guess that he (and, well, Loki—though she'd rather forget the myths she saw on him) was used to much more oddball occurrences beyond two idiot scientists growing a superhuman in a lab. If, of course, those myths held truth. Still, Loki appeared wide-eyed and on the verge of banging his head against the nearest wall.

"This is why we don't do science while drunk," Pepper declared.

"I don't know." Clint was the first to step forward and study the infant. He was still wearing an amused grin. "I think it's kind of cute." He hovered over the baby wrapped in an oversized blanket, taking in its soft, dark brunette curls and wide blue eyes.

"She," Bruce muttered for clarification. He'd twitched somewhat every time the infant was referred to as 'it.'

"She_ better_ be cute. I mean, with the collective gene pool she came out of…" Tony started, proud of himself.

"Unbelievable." Steve rolled his eyes.

"I must agree with Agent Barton," Thor cut in. "This tiny human is quite…adorable."

Loki was revolted. "If this is how you mortals make use of your spare time, I think I have vastly underestimated your stupidity."

Steve was temporarily bewildered considering it was the first time he had agreed with Loki on anything.

"You do understand we're responsible for her, right?" Natasha asked. "She's not just one of your dumbass robots."

"We get that," Bruce defended. "We've been doing our best while monitoring her progress in the lab."

And now Pepper understood the odd boxes sent straight to the lab before she could intercept them; filled with diapers, baby formula, clothing…items that would alert anyone's suspicions to their work.

This is the last thing she would have expected. Pepper had so many other questions, she didn't know where to begin or whether she wanted the answers. The only mantra her racing mind latched onto was, _what the actual fuck_.

"Parenting's not exactly my forte," Tony said. "Bruce, on the other hand, is a natural."

"_Fantastic_…well, way to put forethought into this, gentlemen," Pepper said. "Do you have a plan?"

"We have to take care of her," Steve decided. "There's no other way around it."

As usual, they were left dealing with the consequences of the science bros' joint ventures in experimentation. Outlandish technology with creepy levels of artificial intelligence were all too common in the Tower. Creating infants with super abilities were not.

Bruce handed the baby off to Clint, and the separation anxiety was visible. He held her securely against his shoulder, her fingers grasping at his shirt. Her mouth was open, drool trickling down onto the fabric. She was studying everyone for the first time, babbling and smacking her gums. Clint was amazingly at ease. It was strange for them to see a master assassin rocking back and forth on his heels with a baby in his arms. And he was oddly attached already.

"Fury's going to _love_ this," Natasha said.

The communal "oh, shit," moment that followed was practically tangible.

"Mr. Personality? You kidding? He's going to adore Frankenvenger." Tony answered.

"You did _not_," Pepper groaned.

"Yeah, he did," Bruce said with tired sigh. According to his tone, the atrocious term of endearment had stuck around for awhile.

"It's a name that's as cool as it sounds," he protested. "Like a…'70s heavy metal band or something."

"All right, I guess I'm going baby supply shopping before I knock Tony's teeth out."

And with that, Pepper disappeared into the elevator. Not that anyone could blame her; Tony was bearable in small doses and this was just too weird to begin with. Everyone except Tony came to an agreement that the outrageous nickname was not going to stay and retreated upstairs with their newest addition in tow to figure out their game plan on how to handle this turn of events. It was in the second uncomfortable elevator ride of the evening that Stark decided to break the ice with an addendum:

"This would probably be a bad time to mention Rock of Ages' genetic material slipped in there, too, wouldn't it?"

Whatever color was in Loki's face immediately drained as the elevator occupants staged a verbal mutiny against Stark. Everyone shuffled off to the living room, grumbling, to distance themselves from the science bros (though Clint had taken the baby with him). Bruce shook his head, removed his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That went well."

"Oh, I was picturing worse," Tony said. "The Tower's still standing."


	2. A Worthy Title

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**A/N: Thanks so much for your reviews and alerts and favorites! This chapter is a bit short but I hope you enjoy it all the same. **

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**Chapter Two**

No one spoke for at least a half hour.

The leftover Chinese food sat where they dropped it, and despite it going cold, Thor salvaged the last of the lo mein. The rest of the team lounged around and took turns fuming at Tony and Bruce. Loki had stormed off the moment the elevator arrived at the floor, knocking into Natasha and Steve on his mad scramble out of the cramped space. He went into angsty teenager mode, and they heard a door slam above them afterward. Clint was comfortable on the couch with the baby in his lap and Natasha beside him. She had an iron grip on his index finger and even smiled at him when he started pulling faces. It was the first time she had been outside of the lab, so the new surroundings were curious to her. Every subtle noise caused her head to turn, seeking out its source.

It was obvious Bruce wasn't going to get the baby back anytime soon, but his gaze never strayed from the infant nevertheless. He had a mug of coffee in between his hands to stave off the sleep deprivation, although it didn't seem to be enough. His head continued to lull to one side if his concentration strayed.

Steve was pouting. But for all his permanently knit together eyebrows and drawn out sighs and defensive arm crosses, Natasha totally caught him crack a smirk at Clint being a goofball. Tony was at the bar fixing himself a drink to combat everyone's heated glares. He didn't have a problem with Frankenvenger (but he had to admit the accidental slip-up of Loki's DNA in her coding was _bad_) and couldn't have possibly figured out a better time to let that little detail loose. How could he explain that the (for lack of a better term) blood of their enemy was in their kid, too?

_Their kid_.

Tony was still adjusting to that. He wasn't known to be the sharing type.

And to hell with everyone else, he was keeping the nickname.

"She's got Tasha's pout," Clint decided. Natasha couldn't really argue.

"I think she has Steve's nose."

Clint brushed his thumb against her nose and her eyes traveled from his hand up to his face, her mouth opened with a bubble of spit between her lips. Her rounded cheeks were tinged in a light shade of pink. Her eyes followed his every movement, however subtle. As he captured a stray curl of dark hair between two fingers, she made a sound and whirled her arms about.

"How can you tell?" Clint asked. He squinted at the baby. "You're wrong, anyway, it looks Thor-ish."

"It does not."

Natasha laughed when the baby's waving hands found purchase on Clint's chin. She was very close to tugging at his bottom lip when he pried her away gently and held out his palm instead. She made a melodic cooing sound and stuffed her fingers into her mouth. Saliva dribbled everywhere. Clint made a face.

"Hey, Thor, come here—"

"You're ridiculous."

Tony ambled over with a glass of amber liquid clutched in one fist. "You're both wrong," he told them. "That is definitely my nose."

"Still don't know how to share, do you, Stark?" Natasha inquired.

"Didn't quite grasp the concept and it never really caught on."

He plopped onto the couch next to Bruce who jolted awake, spilling lukewarm coffee down the front of his wrinkled button-up shirt. He bit into his bottom lip to keep a short leash on his temper and shoved the mug onto the table. Steve finally uncrossed his arms and toned down his grandfatherly look of disapproval.

"What are we going to call her?" he questioned.

"We must give her a strong name, worthy of her parentage," Thor said.

"Nothing hard to pronounce or spell," Natasha stated. "No offense, Thor, but your people have a history of complicated names."

Thor nodded in consent. "I believe a Midgardian title would suit her best."

"All right, start tossing out ideas," Clint said.

The baby was now tucked into the crook of his arm sitting upright. She was able to hold up her head on her own. She had another fistful of his shirt and his grip on her was something Natasha thought Clint only reserved for his bow. He'd met the baby less than an hour ago, and he was already feeling protective. There was no going back. The Hawk had claimed his territory.

Tony scrolled through a list of popular girls names he'd pulled up on his phone. If someone had told him a year ago that he would be picking out a baby name for a kid he'd helped engineer in a lab, he would have laughed in their face (and probably downed half a bottle of scotch for good measure).

"Sophia…Isabella….Emily…Grace…_Brooklyn_? Seriously?"

"Brooklyn sounds nice."

"Forget it, Steve," Natasha vetoed. She flickered her wrist in Tony's general direction. A bunch of overgrown children who couldn't compromise on anything? (Except when it came to getting shit done Avengers-style, of course.) She had the distinct feeling this was going to end in a screaming match. Or a broken window and the last of the sweet and sour sauce splattered on a random citizen on the street below. "Keep going."

"Lily…Ava…Emma…Victoria—"

"I like Victoria," Clint offered. "Victoria is an ass-kicking name."

"I don't think it fits her," Tony said, taking a sip of his drink.

"Are you suggesting our kid is incapable of badassery?" Natasha challenged. "Take a good look around at what you _made her from_ and shut your mouth."

"Whoa, retract those claws, Mama Bear." Tony put up his hands as if it would get her to back off. "I was disagreeing with the choice—of course she's a badass, look at her." He gestured to the infant who was currently attempting to stuff her entire fist in her mouth. "I wouldn't mess with that."

Bruce laughed, one arm draped over his forehead. He had his eyes closed but was still listening to the conversation. The idea of her kicking anyone's ass at this stage (despite her being highly advanced) was hilarious. More so in his state of restlessness.

Tony continued to scroll down the list, frowning, unhappy with the choices he saw. Everyone else sat in deliberation and examined the baby as if the answer was going to magically appear on her forehead. Thor was at a loss—he didn't know many Midgardian names and struggled calling to mind a simple Asgardian title befitting a superhuman.

Steve cleared his throat a bit, his head lowered in a sort of reverent bow. "What about Coulson?"

They could hear a pin drop as the whole room hushed. No one dared to catch each other's eye, at least not right away. Tony downed the remaining contents of his glass.

"I know…" Steve pressed on, "I know it's not a girl's name, but," he fought with his words, "he's kind of the reason we're all here. It might be good to…pass that on. We could maybe give it to her as a middle name."

"A worthy name indeed," Thor said. He lifted his head where it had been bent over his clasped hands while he sat leaning over the edge of the couch cushion. His tone was somber, yet laced with the utmost respect.

"All in favor?" Clint asked. There was a show of nods and raised hands. Nothing more needed to be said.

"I still believe Frankenvenger is the epitome of greatness." Tony hauled himself out of the chair and made a break for the bar to refill his glass.

"Good luck with that, Tony," Bruce chuckled.

"Well, I don't see you throwing out ideas over there."

"It's true," Steve said.

"You had a nickname for her, too, didn't you?" Tony asked. Clint saw the baby turn her head slightly to follow the familiarity of his voice.

Bruce's eyes were still closed and his head rested against the arm of the couch. Clearly his battle with round-the-clock lab work and caring for an infant, as well as the insomnia required of it, was coming to a losing end. His response was barely perceptible as sleep started to creep in.

"What?" Clint asked.

"Amy," Bruce repeated. He forced his eyes open at last and tugged himself upright. He scrubbed a palm into his eye and blinked several times in a desperate last-ditch move to keep himself awake. Steve pushed the cold coffee back into his hands.

"Before she was created, we named the experiment Project Amalgamation. When we knew she was a girl, I started calling her Amy instead. Amelia. Amy."

"Amelia." Thor tested it out. A pleasant grin spread across his face. "It is a beautiful name."

"All in favor?" Clint asked again.

There were shouts of "yes," which had to be a record of some type—all six of them arriving at a compromise twice in a matter of ten minutes. And they didn't even have to sacrifice everyone's temper. Or the sweet and sour sauce. Or a window.

Amelia slid into the crook underneath Clint's arm and had one hand gripped tightly in the light fabric of his t-shirt. She rested her head against his side and hooked her hands around his forearm. She was getting antsy and most likely wanted to be fed soon.

"How old is she, exactly?" Steve asked. He'd been trying to estimate for the past five minutes.

"Hard to tell," Bruce said, yawning. "She's been growing fast…nowhere near the typical rate of a human. I don't know if we'll be able to pinpoint her age or predict when she'll pick up advanced physical or cognitive abilities. We think she should level out eventually."

"_Should_?" Steve echoed. "You mean to say we could have a toddler with super strength running around the Tower in a few weeks?"

"It's a possibility, yes," he answered. "What it comes down to is a waiting game. Everything is uncertain. She's the first of her kind."

Great. Not only was she a collection of their genetics wrapped up in an adorable package, she was also going to keep them on their toes. A teenaged version of this scientific anomaly was not what Steve or anyone else cared to picture at the moment. Processing the idea of a new miniature addition to their less-than-conventional residence was enough.

"So, who wants to break the news to Director Fury?" Natasha questioned.

Tony wasn't pleased. "Ah, you had to ruin the moment…"

"Let's not tell him," Clint suggested.

Steve lifted an eyebrow. "Is that even an option?"

"It is until his eye finds out," Tony said, smirking, "which it always does. Eventually."


	3. Blackmail

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**A/N: Thanks so much for your reviews, favorites, and alerts! Any comments you can give me would be most appreciated and encouraging! I hope you enjoy this chapter. **

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**Chapter Three**

Steve watched Bruce scribble down notes in a detailed chart attached to a clipboard, scanning the numbers and levels illuminated on the see-through screens. The tech still left him with headaches, but he had to admit Bruce's knack for wading through math and science in the blink of an eye was remarkable.

"Is all this…good news?" he asked.

Bruce adjusted his glasses and made more notes. "For the most part. She's healthy, which is what we want, but her growth rate hasn't slowed. It's impossible to predict the point where it could level out."

Amy let out a distraught cry, kicking her legs from where she lay in the bassinette hooked up to the machines.

"Almost done, sweetheart, I promise," Bruce soothed.

Padded censors were stuck onto her torso and wrapped around one of her fingers, wires running upward at different angles to transfer information to the computers. Steve guessed this might have been where and how Tony had come up with Amy's nickname.

"This doesn't hurt her, does it?" Steve questioned. He leaned over the bassinette and held out a finger for Amy to latch onto. Bruce couldn't tell if his eyebrows were raised in a rigid line out of worry or anger. Probably both.

"No, not even a little bit," Bruce replied. "She's just hungry."

"_Again_? She ate an hour ago. Is that normal?"

"An infant her size? No. With all due respect, she's far from normal. We have you and Thor to thank for her high metabolism."

"Lucky her." The cynicism in Steve's voice was palpable.

Bruce moved to the computer and the clacking of keys joined the beeping emitted from the machines. It was uncomfortable for Steve to imagine the baby only knowing the noise and chaos of tech for the first several months of her life. No wonder they'd been having trouble getting her to sleep.

"Still not warming up to her, are you?"

Steve exhaled. "It's the idea of what she is, what she can do. And the fact that you and Stark were able to _create_ her…"

Bruce paused, hands suspended over the keyboard. There was a thin smirk on his face when he turned to meet Steve.

"Amy's not so different from yourself," he offered.

"She'll be stronger," Steve said. "That doesn't worry you?"

"If I said it didn't, I'd be lying." He padded over to the bassinette and started peeling off the censors with a careful hand. He snapped Amy back into her onesie and gave her over to Steve. She was still kicking her legs furiously as Steve cradled her against his hip.

Steve looked as though he had a million other questions on his mind, but he opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish and said nothing else. Amy had a good grip on his shirt collar and her tiny feet kept jabbing into his side. Her whines indicated she was getting impatient waiting to be fed. Steve knew that she didn't get that from him—yes, she had some version of his speedy metabolism, but Stark and Thor were usually the ones who got irritable when they didn't eat.

"You done here?" he asked.

"Yeah," Bruce said. There was a hitch in his breath. Steve's footsteps retreated to the doorway of the lab, but Bruce's voice followed after. "Nature versus nurture, Cap. We raise her right, we won't have much to worry over."

Steve halted for a moment in the doorway. "It's not us I'm concerned about."

Amy let out a louder cry and was close to grabbing onto Steve's ear. He dodged her hand and continued to the elevator without another word to Banner.

* * *

One of the most useful appliances Stark had invented to date was a contraption that prepared and kept Amy's bottles of formula heated to the right temperature. Steve liked it because there weren't an insane amount of buttons and complicated procedures in order to work the damn thing. It didn't require reminders in the form of Post-It notes. It did everything it was supposed to and Steve couldn't attempt to break it on purpose even if he wanted. The appliance sat on the wide marble countertop of the kitchen and worked much like an instant coffee machine, popping out a fresh bottle at the push of a button.

Thor had been mesmerized by the thing when Tony had hauled it up from the lab where he and Bruce had been using it. No one else had been really surprised, considering the number of prototypes the team had implemented and successfully broken (either on accident or a planned "accident" because it became more of a nuisance) each week. Natasha was pretty sure Stark barricaded himself in the workshop figuring out ways to annoy his new roommates with things he thought made their lives simpler but instead reduced them to technology fueled rage-quits.

There was a rumor of a running tally somewhere keeping track of how many times Natasha had pumped a robot or piece of machinery full of bullets. (A second rumor only discussed in hushed tones supposedly involved Loki crossing paths with an electronic window cleaner late one night…something about a near lawsuit when it flew out a window and on top of a parked car…) And another every time the Hawk speared one with an arrow, or Thor took a good whack with Mjolnir.

…Which was what Steve thought he would do when he first encountered this strange apparatus at six-thirty in the morning, still groggy from a fitful night's sleep. He'd narrowed his eyes at it as the device whirred and sounded something like a muted jet engine. For whatever reason, Thor seemed to believe it posed great danger and did not get the memo of what it was for. Faster than Steve could leap over the center island and send the spatula in his hand flying (and by default, a pancake stuck to the ceiling), Thor had Mjolnir in his grasp.

Luckily, Clint and Natasha breezed through the doorway of the kitchen (Clint with the baby all but attached to his shoulder) in time to see the whole thing happen.

"Thor, _stop_!" Natasha hollered, making it across the room in a speed that made Steve dizzy. She laid a hand on Thor's bicep while Mjolnir was suspended inches from the top of the machine.

Blinking, he lowered the hammer to his side, confusion written all over his face. "This peculiar device…to my ears it sounded a threat. Is it not a concealed weapon?"

Clint stifled his laughter unsuccessfully. It was hard to take some things seriously when a god of thunder was about to blast a household appliance to smithereens at an early hour. He was a morning person once he got a jolt of caffeine—before then, everything was fair game for humor.

"Unless you're lactose intolerant," Clint chuckled, "then, no. Back off, big guy."

It was a general rule after the incident to make sure Thor was briefed about any and _all_ new inventions. Though, there were still a few not-so-accidental accidents.

Steve pulled a fresh bottle from the dispensing machine and made his way down the hall with Amy at his hip to the media room. That room, he had soon figured out, had the most comfortable plush couches. One wall was covered in the largest screen Steve had ever laid eyes on outside of a movie theater. The other walls housed hundreds of movies lined up on dark wood bookshelves, along with a docking station for an iPod or other equivalent. (Though Steve still swore by old fashioned records and did not bode well against touch screens and the like.) And there was Stark's karaoke machine. Which was only put to use on evenings when everyone was blitzed. Well, almost everyone.

Amy took her bottle in way that reminded Steve of Thor whenever he ate, which was frightening and jaw-dropping at once. He would take care to teach her table manners when she reached the appropriate age because he could not stand to see Amelia wolfing down every meal like it was a battle between herself, the utensils, and the food. At least now she was limited to making little sounds and groans as she inhaled the contents of her bottle, fists wrapped around the plastic while Steve held it in place.

"Well, you don't waste anything, that's for sure," Steve told her. He lifted the bottle from her mouth and she stared up at him with her puppy-like blue eyes. He wiped a dribble of formula off her chin. Steve set the emptied bottle on the table beside him.

Amy continued to fix her gaze on Steve, always captivated by the sound of her parents' voices or slight movements while they spoke. She waved one of her hands at him and kicked her legs, mouth open slightly.

"Now we'll wait and see how long it'll take for you to get hungry again."

Amy cooed in response, knocking into Steve's legs with her feet. He ran his fingers through her hair where someone (he had no idea who had been awake to dress her this morning) had attached a little polka dot bow. He smiled and hoisted Amy up by his shoulder so he could stand and pat her back. Steve paced out of the room and down a few hallways, finding it easier to be in motion while he did so. Usually, the movement helped her drift off into a nap, but that wasn't always the case.

The last thing Steve expected was to cross paths with Loki on his meandering route through one of the floors of the Tower. Loki rarely emerged from his quarters, and when he did, it was at a carefully chosen time where he could avoid such interactions. Loki strutted toward him with his chin titled up in condescension, a brooding presence of leather and metal and immaculately cut cheekbones. A voice from the stairwell caught them both off guard and halted their silent glare-down. Clint's head poked around the corner, eyebrow quirked as if he was witnessing Dracula creeping from his coffin.

"Hey, Cap," he called out, "we need all hands on deck down in the workshop."

"Everything okay?"

Clint shrugged. "Stark made a mess."

"Give me a minute," Steve answered. Clint saluted and disappeared back down the stairs.

Steve could feel Loki eying him and grabbed hold of his wrist before he could bolt down the hallway to evade the inevitable. Steve hated this. It was more than obvious Loki despised the immediate thought that came to mind. He yanked his wrist out of Steve's grasp and directed a sneer at both him and Amy.

"You have to watch her," Steve said.

"I will do nothing of the sort," Loki protested. "I am not aiding and abetting to this madness."

"It's not up for debate. There's no other option here." Steve lifted Amy from his shoulder and held her out to Loki, reluctant as hell. "Hold her."

"Absolutely not."

"_Loki_," Steve all but growled, "I'm not arguing with you, and I sure as hell won't fight you on this. Cut it out with the holier-than-thou attitude and take one for the team."

His laugh was dripping with contempt. "In what world do you believe I would even consider doing anything that would help any of you? I would rather sit idly by and watch the lot of you rip each other's throats out cleaning up your pathetic messes."

Steve was agonizingly close to knocking Loki into next week. "Yeah? Too bad," he replied. "If you don't hold her in the next thirty seconds, I'll make sure Thor marches you straight back to Asgard. Take your pick."

Scowling, Loki pondered his options for exactly twenty-five seconds before he allowed Steve to hand the squirming baby over to him. He held her out in front of his chest, as far away from his torso as his lithe arms could manage. Steve heard his name echoing down the stairwell and followed the sound. He stopped at the landing and narrowed his eyes at the god of mischief, who hadn't moved an inch.

"You hurt her or misplace one hair on her head, I'll rip _your_ throat out. Understood?"

Loki rolled his eyes in response. He watched Steve's retreating back and then turned his attention to the wriggling infant in his…care. She was staring at him and he found that particularly unsettling. The moment Steve had walked away, Loki wished for every punishment imaginable rather than being left alone with this science experiment gone wrong. He made his way back through the hallways toward the central living room, all the while holding Amy an arm's length away from himself. Why the fools would allow him to even touch the baby was a mystery to him; ever since Stark and Banner had introduced her, he'd wanting nothing to do with their latest endeavor. The whole thing was absurd.

She was starting to get unhappy. Which, in turn, made Loki progressively more infuriated. He had no idea what to do with her to get her to stop. Childcare was not a skill he possessed or wanted to learn. Not now, not ever. Loki was pretty sure his long and storied past ruled him out of parenting responsibilities altogether. The mere notion of him in the role of a father was laughable, especially to Stark and Banner's out of control science project. He'd blocked (or tried to) the information claiming partial accountability for her genetics. It was out of the question. Not happening. Loki immersed himself in denial because it was a hell of a lot easier than accepting the truth.

Amy began crying, her face scrunching into unattractive expressions that caused Loki's upper lip to curl in disgust.

"You are a most loathsome, ghastly excuse for a creature."

Not that he expected her to answer. It just needed to be said.

She wouldn't _stop_. So, Loki was stuck standing with his legs shoulder width apart, the baby hovering in midair before him while she screamed her lungs out and kicked her legs at him.

"It is no use to either of us if you continue your wretched sobbing," he said. Amy was not going to listen. "_Silence_." He snarled, aggravated that she would not obey. "Petulant creature. I will _not_ allow you to command me with such insolence. You deserve _nothing_ from me."

Loki was met with a face full of baby vomit at that precise moment. Impeccable timing and aim and everything. At first, he was too shocked to much except keep his eyes and mouth closed while the regurgitated infant formula streaked down his face, onto his armor and tunic. The smell was horrendous. He felt it not only all over the front of him but somewhere in his hair as well, sticky, warm, and gag-inducing. Loki tried to open his eyes and shake it from his face onto the floor. It didn't work as well as he'd hoped; it dripped into his eyes and mouth, forcing him to spit it out. If he wasn't completely sickened by Amy before, he definitely was now.

Amy's weeping dissipated. Of course.

Thankfully (but not really because Loki was mortified), half the team rushed to the living room after discovering Steve had left Amelia with Loki. The scene each of them pictured was far from the one they were greeted with when they arrived. It took a few awkward moments and then some for the sight to register. Natasha went clambering for the nearest cell phone to snap a photograph as proof (and maybe forward it to Pepper and everyone else). Both Clint and Thor doubled over in hysterics, having been the past victims of Amy's post-bottle throw up.

"We should frame that," Clint suggested, once he'd composed himself somewhat. Natasha captured a few more for good measure.

"Your new appearance suits you well, brother," Thor said. He hid his smirk underneath the fist pressed against his lips.

Loki glowered at them. "Remove this foul thing from my care."

"I think she likes you," Natasha said.

"The feeling is not mutual."

They swore they could hear Stark's laughter resonate from the workshop.


	4. Stark Sized Night Light

**Disclaimer: I don't anything, except Amy.**

**A/N: Thank you so much again for your reviews, favorites, and alerts! Comments or reviews are always encouraging to keep me motivated to write, so any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated!**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

"Stark, take off your shirt."

"Slow down, Romanoff. At least buy me a drink first."

"Quit flattering yourself."

"It's my favorite pastime. Can't stop, won't stop."

Natasha threw a very irritated look at Pepper, who waved him off. "He only has one setting. He doesn't know how to function outside the realm of sarcasm."

It was the fifth night of overwhelming sleep deprivation. Cranky Avengers, nonexistent patience, and a crying infant did not bode well for anyone. Tony's sarcasm was no help, either. Nights outside of the lab were frightening and unfamiliar to Amelia. Everyone (excluding Tony, who seemed to be allergic to even the idea of parenting past eight o'clock) had made an attempt at getting her to fall asleep between feedings. It was a futile joint effort, for the most part.

Loki avoided the situation entirely since the Great Vomit Incident (that no one let him forget) and spent most of his time as far away from Amelia as possible. No one except Thor took this personally. The majority of the team felt it was for the best. If Loki had so much as breathed the same air as Amelia, there was a running bet Bruce would let the Other Guy take over in a split second and make Loki eat the floor. Again.

Natasha had been sure Amy would drift off if Clint held her against his shoulder and rocked from side-to-side. It was one of her favorite places to nap during the day, but somehow it didn't quite do the trick once the sun went down. When Clint had nearly put _himself_ to sleep, Natasha seized the weeping infant and paced out of the room. Clint was often too tired to protest.

Alone, Natasha would hum lullabies—some in her native Russian tongue; old songs conjured from faint childhood memories—into their daughter's ear, embracing her as she made tracks around a vacant room or hallway. Steve caught her once. She didn't know how long he'd been standing there with the stupidest grin on his face, but he got the death-glare equivalent of the middle finger in response. Natasha's tactic appeared to work best, if only for a short while. Amelia liked the comfort of a feminine tone; after months of Stark's obnoxious voice, Natasha couldn't really blame her.

Since she seemed to like music, Steve's strategy was as such. He regretted not having the familiar crackle of records to soothe her with—it had always been a source of great comfort back in his day. Until he could see about a record player and pick through a few hole-in-the-wall music stores, Steve asked JARVIS to play songs from his era. Anything from Gershwin's _Rhapsody in Blue_ (a favorite 1920s composition of his) to the famous tunes of Glenn Miller, Vera Lynn, The Andrews Sisters, and Bing Crosby. Like Natasha's singing, the peace lasted only for so long, and then Steve panicked. He had no clue how to deal with most modern day social situations, so a sobbing baby rendered him useless and he had to be rescued by one of his teammates.

And the night-by-night-gross-crying-infant relay continued.

Pepper was out of the question. She held a job during the day, and when she wasn't moving heaven and earth to keep Stark Industries in tip-top shape, her evenings had consisted of interior decoration. Which by default included finding places to house the shitload of toys and other items Tony had bought that Amy probably wouldn't use, because the living room was becoming overcrowded. Pepper knew he spent nights hiding out from responsibility with a fully-loaded credit card and no boundaries when it came to online shopping. She was about ready to revoke his internet privileges after midnight if one more box showed up at the Tower.

She had the task of painting and arranging Amelia's bedroom. With Thor's help. Which she hadn't asked for but he had insisted on. There was a lot of apologizing and more paint on Thor's newly purchased Midgardian clothes (and _her_ clothes) than necessary, but he was happy to be of assistance. And she enjoyed not having to move the furniture. Even when he underestimated his strength and turned a rocking chair into splinters. Long story short, Pepper was usually passed out on the first available soft surface before Amy could be handed off to her. No one had the heart or strength to wake her up.

Bruce, who claimed Amelia had slept rather soundly while in the lab, used remedies he had found useful when keeping the Other Guy on lockdown. His approach was more holistic and understated, much like his persona. After the nursery was habitable, he spent a night pacing the room while his gentle hand massaged circles into their daughter's back. She fussed and rubbed her nose against his shirt collar in dissent, letting out a few cries here and there. That soon escalated into wailing, Amy's face contorted and beet red. He made use of the new rocking chair and several aromatherapy candles on the second night, but Amy didn't find the scents of lavender or lemon grass as soothing as he did.

"Allow me to quiet the child," Thor announced the previous night when half the team had passed out and Natasha had been the last one awake.

This was a cosmic improvement from the past few nights, where Thor had wanted to hold Amelia but always worried he would cause her harm. He was beginning to have the look of a puppy who continued to beg and was ignored. With a smirk, Natasha lay Amelia in Thor's waiting arms. His expression was one of barely concealed terror when the baby squirmed in the cocoon of his enormous biceps.

"There, there, little one," he soothed. His voice rumbled deep in his chest. Amelia ceased her endless flailing and hiccupped. She stared at him, stormy blue eyes wide. Thor glanced at Natasha and then back down at the infant.

Natasha laughed and slapped a hand over her mouth—the sight of Thor holding Amy was both hilarious and endearing, like a lion cradling a baby chick. Thor was doing his best to hide the oh-my-gods-what-do-I-do-now? look and replace with one of an adoring father. Which wasn't difficult considering he absolutely loved her. He just needed to remember how to breathe.

"If you had wept any louder, I fear the whole of Asgard might have heard you," he chuckled.

Amelia liked the sound of his voice, the roar of it within his broad chest. She giggled, which had been a welcomed change from the past several hours.

"Keep talking," Natasha encouraged.

Thor began to tell her the myths of the creation of the nine realms, thinking eventually the lull of his voice would cause her to drift into sleep. Not the case. Instead of sleeping, Amy studied his every movement and absorbed every word. It was cute, for a little while. But the kid seriously needed to get some shut-eye. If not for her benefit then for everyone else's. They were getting very, _very_ desperate.

Tonight had been no different thus far. The majority of the team was off in happy slumbers deep enough to drown out Amelia's crying. Pepper and Natasha were the last ones standing until Tony made the mistake of wandering into the living room. They had caught him like a deer in the headlights, and he hung his head in surrender. Tony knew he wasn't getting out of parenting responsibilities tonight, but nevertheless his response was a suggestion to read her the aptly titled book, _Go the Fuck to Sleep_.

"_No_," both Natasha and Pepper had snapped at him.

"I see no harm in the benefits of literature."

"Her mind is a sponge and she's going to repeat everything. Do you _really_ want her first word to be 'fuck'?" Pepper asked.

Tony didn't exactly object.

"Never mind," Pepper said, sighing. "I should have realized who I was talking to."

Tony gave in and relieved Natasha of her unsuccessful attempts at making their daughter fall asleep. She was wide awake and braced her hands against his chest, head held up and drool oozing from her mouth. Tony watched her as she lapsed into calm and let out a soft babble sound. Her curious gaze found the dull glow of his arc reactor beneath his shirt, and soon, her pudgy fingers traced the light peeking through. It was then that Natasha had taken Amy out of his grasp and suggested he remove his shirt. Tony eyed her dubiously before taking off his shirt with all the flare of an exotic dancer. He tossed it at Pepper's head where she lay on the couch and she cat-called.

"And I didn't even have to pay for it."

"Funny."

Pepper looked proud of herself.

"Come here, kiddo," Tony said, gesturing for Natasha to give Amy back.

Amelia clung to his chest again, one hand immediately placed on the arc reactor. She studied it in fascination; the blue light reflected off her face and highlighted her curls. She was quiet, and after a while of inquisitive examination of the strange device, her head finally drooped against Tony's chest. Tony watched her eyes, captivated by the glow, flutter closed. Amy fell asleep at last with a soft grip on the arc reactor. The three of them waited as the minutes ticked by into twenty. Amelia remained pressed close to the steady rise and fall of Tony's chest and the barely detectable hum of the circular mechanism beside her ear.

"Huh," Tony whispered, "would you look at that?"

"We could have resolved this sleep issue nights ago," Pepper said.

"All she wanted was her night light." Natasha laughed.

The next couple of weeks found the team falling into a routine. Amelia slept through the night only when she had her Tony-sized night light. Pepper was somewhat thankful for this because as long as he was preoccupied with the baby, the excessive deliveries to the Tower stopped.

* * *

One afternoon, Bruce settled Amelia on a blanket (an Avengers blanket, to be exact—apparently Tony had no shame whatsoever and therefore most of her belongings featured the six of them immortalized in absurd merchandise) in the middle of the rec room on her back to allow her the freedom to kick her legs around. She was blathering a lot more now, forever curious with a troublemaking streak. He'd made the mistake the other day of letting her grab his glasses right of his face. Although her abilities were far off from reaching their potential, Amy had managed to bend the frames.

Bruce studied Amelia, a fond smile on his lips, while she thrashed her arms and legs wildly. Her new favorite skill was rolling onto her stomach, which made her giggle and grin, especially when Bruce rewarded her with encouragement. Bruce wasn't surprised that it didn't take long for Thor to wander down, Clint on his heels. His voice echoed in the outside hallway:

"Raspberries? I do not understand this play of words. Are they not a Midgardian fruit?"

Clint laughed as they passed over the threshold of the rec room. "It's an expression. Not literal."

Bruce couldn't stifle his amused smirk at Thor's relieved look. Clearly, he was on the defensive, afraid Clint would actually be chucking raspberries at their daughter. Clint lowered onto his knees and hovered over Amy, who grabbed fistfuls of his short-cropped, dirty blonde hair in her clammy palms.

Bruce winced. "I'd ask if that hurts, but I can assume you've met worse."

"Oh, yeah, this is nothing," Clint said. He made a weird face and knocked his nose against Amy's. She giggled. He was satisfied the hair-pulling tendencies came from his side of the gene pool.

Thor lay down on his stomach on Amelia's left, opposite from Bruce. Her existence continued to awe him, which was quite a huge deal coming from a demi-god. Although he didn't understand the circumstances of her creation, the fact that she was partially his filled him with joy.

"I was trying to explain to Beowulf here the concept of blowing raspberries," Clint informed Bruce.

"I can see a couple ways where that could go wrong," he replied.

Clint pushed his face into Amelia's rounded belly and the sounds emitted were enough to make Thor's pleasant expression twist into one of repulsion and mild concern. Amy, meanwhile, was sent into a giggle fit, as Clint blew more raspberries into her stomach. The sound of her laughter was infectious—sweet and virtually uncontrollable. Bruce couldn't stop himself from laughing at her and the way Clint de-aged in her presence.

"You mortals have a most interesting method of child play," Thor said.

Clint placed a kiss onto her forehead and Amy tried to latch her mouth onto his nose. She succeeded, her fingers digging into his cheeks.

"I'd like my nose back, thanks," he said to her.

He wrenched his nose from her slobbery gums and Bruce handed her a colorful soft plastic ring to play with instead. She gave a loud shout, flailed her arm, and nearly smacked herself in the face with it. Amelia didn't think it was as much fun to preoccupy herself with than Daddy Hawk's nose. Thor leaned in closer to her, which was a serious slip up in judgment on his part. It was only a matter of time when the colored ring slipped from Amy's slimy fingers and wacked him in the forehead.

The pride in Clint's features was terrifying. "She has solid aim."

"The makings of a great warrior," Thor agreed. He held out the ring to Amelia, hoping she'd grasp it again and not throw it in his direction. He would make sure to duck if the situation repeated itself.

"All right, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Bruce said. He scribbled on the notepad resting in his lap.

Something told him his comment was lost on Clint, who was most likely working out the best opportunity to get a bow in her hands.

* * *

"I did it yesterday," was Tony's excuse.

"That's the best you've got?" Steve asked. The stern grandfather tone was back. "You helped start this, so I think you should clean up the mess."

Tony stared down at the wriggling baby spread out on the spare changing table in the living room. The smell wafting from her soiled diaper was enough to make the toughest of men gag.

"_Yeah_," Tony drawled cynically, "…No."

He grumbled another justification for not getting handed diaper-changing duty that Steve didn't catch and disappeared in the direction of the lab to join Bruce. Amelia started to get crabby and demanding, displeased with the fact that she was stuck in a dirty diaper. Steve knew she had good reason to be, but even the thought of taking on the job himself caused him to dry heave.

One hand on his hip, Steve exhaled loudly. "Barton," he called over his shoulder, "you wanna take care of this?"

Steve was left on the receiving end of dead air. He could have sworn Agent Barton was there a second ago, but when Steve turned to actually look, he was nowhere in sight. Sure, Barton was all hands-on when it came to what he deemed as the "fun" aspects of raising a kid, but the moment he had to clean up a mess, he became invisible. (And he was extremely,_ infuriatingly_ talented at not being found.) The mindset was true for every one of them, when he thought about it. Defending New York City against aliens and a psychotic god of mischief? No problem. Changing a baby's diaper or getting thrown up on? Forget it. Not happening.

Natasha was employed on a day mission for SHIELD. That left himself and Thor, who appeared to have realized this. Unlike Barton, he stood from the armchair he'd been sitting in and stuck out his chest.

"I shall duel you for the task," he suggested.

"You're serious?"

It turned out Thor was quite serious. The god of thunder was not skilled in changing diapers. It just wasn't an area of expertise particularly useful to Asgardian warriors. The first time Pepper taught him, he'd laughed at the idea of doing such a menial job. Steve figured he didn't have much to lose either way and if Thor wanted to fight him for it, then fine. He also knew it would be difficult to determine a winner if there weren't set rules or something. The last time they'd fought—with placed bets hanging in the balance—it had caused severe destruction to the newly renovated hangar, not to mention the vehicles inside it. Stark had been furious and any mention of the incident had the ability to send him into a tirade.

"How about we arm wrestle?" Steve suggested. "Best two out of three."

They needed to make it quick. Amelia's whining had verged onto cries of absolute irritation. She wasn't going to stand for this shit, quite literally, any longer.

Steve and Thor poised themselves over the table, both kneeling on opposite sides. Once Steve counted down from three, Thor forgot the restrictions of arm wrestling and got swept up in his competitive nature. Steve's feet were knocked out from underneath him and he went flying into an end table. He tried to holler at Thor to _remember the rules_ and _this is definitely not arm wrestling _(unless he'd missed something and this was the Asgardian manner of doing things) but it was far too late. They'd side-stepped the objective and now Steve just wanted to make certain he didn't get pulverized for starting this. Poor Amy screamed and thrashed about in the background, unhappy about her fathers' lack of attention to her needs.

And that's how Pepper found them. She walked off the elevator to the sight of the living room in shambles and Steve attempting to pin Thor down in an impressive display of rough-and-tumble wrestling. The two idiots were so focused on their efforts to beat the crap out of each other, they didn't take notice when Pepper stalked over to Amy and changed her dirty diaper without a problem. Pepper changed Amy into a clean onesie and shook her head, hoisting the baby up near her shoulder. Amelia's crying had dissipated into soft hiccups around her fingers stashed into her mouth.

She stood like a spectator about to whip out a bucket of popcorn while Steve and Thor collided into the back wall and fell through it to the room next door. Amy twisted around from the crook of Pepper's shoulder, the hiccups scared out of her from the thunderous boom it had caused. Amy braced her hands against Pepper's suit jacket and cooed, blue eyes drawn to the dust settling around the broken wall.

Pepper kissed her temple. "A bunch of crazies in this family, huh?" she laughed.

Amy nuzzled into Pepper's neck, obviously tired, but Pepper couldn't help but take it as the perfect response.

"I got you, girly," she said. She left a kiss beneath Amelia's unkempt hair. "C'mon…I think naptime is a good idea. We don't want to be here when Tony finds out Daddy Steve and Papa Thor broke his stuff again."


	5. Propensity for Destruction

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Except Amy, of course.**

**A/N: I apologize for the delay. I started classes again, and I've been trying to get back into the routine and balancing coursework with other writing. Anyway, THANK YOU SO MUCH for all of your reviews, favorites, and alerts. Let me know how you like this chapter. Your words are encouraging! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Fall was upon New York City, though the occupants of Stark Tower hardly noticed the trees had long since turned shades of burnt orange and red below the skyline unless they happened to look outside. Life was self-contained (except for Clint and Natasha's SHIELD missions and Tony's public appearances every now and then), and each day had become a daring game of let's-see-how-long-we-can-keep-this-from-Fury. They were like a group of teenagers hiding a scandalous secret from Mom, lying through their teeth and ignoring Director Fury's calls to the Tower.

"This isn't going to last much longer," Bruce was saying one morning, "I mean, we're lucky SHIELD hasn't broken down the door already."

He had one hand on Amelia's bare foot while she sat on the surface of one of their steel tables. There was a bright blue bow in her hair, and she wore a long-sleeved light blue shirt with a Captain America shield on the front. And no pants. Amelia wasn't very fond of wearing pants, ever. She'd progressed from her rolling everywhere phase to sitting up and butt-scooting across floors.

Amelia had a wrench clutched in her hand which Tony had to keep dodging every other minute as he worked on a piece of machinery beside her. He made a noncommittal humming noise over the whir of power tools and shrugged.

"Let him throw a hissy fit if he wants," he said. "She's not their business."

"They'll make her their problem, I'm telling you. It's only going to get worse." Bruce ducked when the wrench flew out of Amy's hand and sailed through the air to the opposite side of the workspace. God help them once she got full use and control over her abilities.

Tony's head snapped up at the clatter of the wrench on the floor. "Hey," he poked in her direction, "what'd I tell you about throwing things in here, Frankenvenger? Respect the workspace, all right? Leave destruction of property to the professionals." Amy giggled, pleased with herself, and clapped her hands together.

She grabbed a pair of safety glasses to play with instead, folding and unfolding them, trying to press them to her face. She would glance sideways at the pair Tony wore and then shove them upside-down against her nose. He was willing to bet if she had a little time, she would figure it out. Amelia had started to learn new skills fairly quickly by the powers of observation. It astounded the entire team how fast she was learning. Then again, it was dangerous. If anyone could single-handedly take down the Tower (aside from Loki and Bruce's Better Half), the Avengers agreed it was their kid.

It wasn't even a theory. It was a solid, acceptable fact.

Bruce exhaled loudly, although the corners of his mouth quirked. Amy was determined to get those glasses on her face. At least they were right-side up now.

"Look, I'm dreading the inevitable discussion as much as everyone else. It'd be smart if we got it over and done with."

"I couldn't give a crap about The Furious Address," Tony replied, "but if he makes her their responsibility and not ours, I'll let her throw wrenches at them. And maybe some of Hawk's arrows. The explode-y kind."

"Director Fury from SHIELD calling for you, sir," JARVIS announced. Tony let out a long suffering groan.

"Told you." Bruce was laughing, despite the increasing severity of their circumstances. "Didn't I tell you?"

"Persistent bastard," he mumbled. "Block him."

"I don't think I need to remind you he has ways of hacking—"

"Yeah, yeah…" Tony pushed the safety glasses on top of his head and moved to the computer system. Bruce scooped Amy up and held her against his hip while he watched Tony type commands in, columns of illuminated figures and text scrolling onto the screens.

"You can't—

"_Can't_ is a word I don't believe in," Tony stated. "Let's see Mr. Personality hack his way into a system that's off-line. Should cause some frustration and swearing. To be the fly on _that_ wall…"

"You shut down_ all_ the communication lines to the Tower?" Bruce asked. Amy had placed the safety glasses, the frames twisted out of shape, on her head like Tony. They were slipping off and hung by one of her ears. She now occupied herself with tugging at the buttons on Bruce's shirt.

"Uh, yeah." He had the tone of a teenager with a bad attitude and a rebellious streak.

"The man has helicopters," Bruce said, exasperated. He shook his head and pried a loose button out of Amy's fingers before she even had the chance to consider eating it. This was the third button she'd managed to free from one of his shirts in a span of a week. "He could show up in five minutes if he wanted to. And trust me, after this, he'll want to."

Tony ruffled Amelia's curls. "Get those wrenches at the ready, Frankenvenger."

Bruce rolled his eyes. There was a headache brewing, he could feel it. With Amy still attached to his hip, he left Tony to continue whatever tinkering he had started. He would be back, later, no doubt with an extra fire extinguisher in tow for the inevitable. He and Amy took the elevator upstairs to the main living room; Bruce had to keep her wandering hands away from all the lit up buttons. As usual. She threw a fit and whined when he swatted her hand away. Her stubbornness was something of a force to be reckoned with.

He left her with Thor, Natasha, and Steve, who had just finished breakfast. Natasha was curled up in an armchair with a mug of coffee cradled in her hands while Steve was engrossed in the day's newspaper. Thor, wide smile breaking his face in half upon seeing Amelia, stood up and took her into his mammoth arms. He was more comfortable handling her now but hadn't lost that fleeting undercurrent of panic whenever one of the team trusted him with their little girl. Although she was gaining strength, she was still very much the equivalent of a porcelain doll in the eyes of a mighty Asgardian god.

"Watch her for a bit? I'm going to get rid of this headache," Bruce said. "Oh, and…don't be surprised if Fury shows up unannounced."

Natasha spilled hot coffee on her jeans and let out a Russian expletive. "_What_?"

Steve's eyes appeared from the top of the newspaper. Bruce figured he would have torn the thing in half his fists had turned so rigid.

"I don't want to ask," he said, "but why?"

"Tony's been rejecting his calls—"

"Nothing surprising there," Natasha said.

"And Fury is being more persistent than usual, so he decided to cut off communications to the Tower. I wouldn't be worried if your cell phones don't work. Keep an eye open for a helicopter or something."

Thor's Protective Father Mode activated in an instant. "Will they take her from us?"

Bruce turned toward the elevator with a meek shrug. "Ah…I hope not."

Eyebrows pulled together, Thor pressed a kiss onto Amelia's forehead as her small fingers curled around a chunk of his hair. It was another one of her annoying habits but he didn't find it as irritating as Natasha and Pepper. He was used to a rough-and-tumble childhood. This was nothing in comparison.

"Not to fear, little one," Thor assured her, "They must face every one of us before they lay a hand on you."

"She's ours," Steve said. "SHIELD can't take custody."

"SHIELD can do a lot of things, Rogers," Natasha reminded. She stood and took her coffee mug with her. "I'm making a call to Clint. Maybe he can see what Fury's up to."

Thor settled on the floor with Amelia across from him. She tipped over a container of plastic building blocks, sending them spilling out between the two of them. As of late, they were her favorite things to play with other than Legos, which she had begun to piece together with help from Banner. They had confiscate the Legos the other day because she started throwing them in frustration. Clint had some trouble explaining the large Lego-shaped welt on his cheek to fellow agents and the Director himself (and in the end, he blamed it on one of Tony's stupid robots).

A testament to her freakish level of intelligence, Amelia was showing a real aptitude for building things. The team couldn't try to wipe the smug look off Tony's face once he watched her interlocking the weighty plastic blocks into a solid wall almost taller than she was. His smugness finally deflated when Amelia knocked the Lego wall over with a triumphant giggle.

"I'm just going to pretend I didn't see that," was Tony's answer. "I don't want to know where she got it from."

Their daughter's propensity for destruction with a wicked grin was alarming and best if left somewhat ignored. For now.

Thor had taken some of the blocks and was stacking them on top of each other in the middle of where he and Amy were sitting. It looked odd to Steve, who was never used to seeing the powerhouse of a man supposedly of myth and legend reduced to fluffy mush in a matter of seconds. He could have easily crushed any of those brightly colored blocks in his hands yet there he was, stacking them delicately one-by-one. He appeared human (the clothes—a pair of jeans, a T-shirt protesting against his muscles, and a plaid button-down—might have helped a bit) and filling the role of father rather well.

Steve had kind of figured the guy was a softy underneath all that might and armor.

He hadn't even finished stacking all of the blocks when Amy kicked her feet and toppled the whole thing onto Thor's legs. She clapped her hands together and was happy with herself for the effort.

"You are most destructive, little one," Thor chuckled. "Do my building skills not please you?"

Amy's response was another fit of light giggles. She leaned over and grabbed one of the blocks to begin piling them again as Natasha re-entered the room. Her lips were set in a thin line, arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Any word from Barton?" Steve asked.

"Other than the disturbing amount of separation anxiety," she threw a slight grin in Amy's direction, "he said he caught sight of Fury and he's _not_ in a good mood."

"Implying that he's had such a cheery disposition before?" Stark's voice echoed from the entranceway.

He covered the distance between himself and the group, tossing a grease-covered rag onto a table. Tony picked Amelia up off the floor with an exaggerated airplane noise and lifted her into the air. Thor dodged the block that slipped from her grasp in the process and pulled himself to his feet. Tony carted a blabbering Amy over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and held her out in front of him so she could see the impressive view of Manhattan.

"He's doing it again, isn't he?" Steve asked, not bothering to peek over the newspaper.

"Yeah," Natasha sighed.

"Look, Amy," Tony said, with a nod to the New York skyline, "Everything the light touches is our kingdom."

"Shut up, Stark," Natasha groaned.

Steve put his face in his palm and seriously regretted allowing Tony to participate in last week's movie night. Thor, meanwhile, was amused by Tony's quoting—he had enjoyed, for the most part, their viewing of _The Lion King_. (Even though the majority of the film hit dangerously close to home for his liking.) Banner had caught him re-watching it by himself one afternoon earlier this week and almost feared for his emotional stability. Especially once he had made the futile attempt to get Loki to watch it with him, resulting in a shouting match and another piece of furniture turned to splinters.

"Well, maybe not _everything_," Tony said to Amelia. "But the view's not so bad, right?"

"One day, young Amelia, you will see a kingdom more vast and beautiful than this," Thor promised.

"All right, Shakespeare in the Park," Tony countered, "quit bragging."

"We have a problem," Natasha cut in, hand pressed to her earpiece. Due to Stark's hacking, she'd had to use other means to keep in contact with Clint on the Helicarrier. "Clint's on his way to the Tower with Fury and a couple of agents."

"That'll ruin a day real fast," Tony said.

The sound of helicopter blades beating the air in the distance seemed a little more than ominous.


	6. Author's Note

Hey, guys.

It's come to my attention that my story had been copied word for word and posted on another Fanfiction site without my permission or knowledge.

This had been going on for weeks. _Many thanks_ to the anonymous reviewer who tipped me off, otherwise I wouldn't have known that someone else had been posting it elsewhere, at first claiming it to be their own work. They had confessed and given me credit, but they still did it without my permission and had continued to update. They had overtaken something I worked on and claimed it for their own, encouraging reviewers and acting—for quite some time—as if they had been responsible for it, especially since I had created an original character in Amelia.

I know it's a work of Fanfiction but nevertheless stealing someone's ideas and copying their work word for word is still plagiarism. It's a completely disrespectful, dishonest, and unfair thing to do. It makes me feel terrible as an author that my first attempt at fic in this fandom was stolen from me and further encouraged by a great number of viewers and readers on a site I hadn't even heard of until now.

I just wanted to make you all aware of what happened in the hopes that it won't happen again.

I'll be updating this fic soon. Thank you to everyone who has been reading, alerting, favoriting, and reviewing. I wholeheartedly appreciate your feedback. Hopefully, you're all still with me and excited to continue little Amy's journey with her dysfunctional family.

Thanks!

-dudeurfugly


	7. Potential Threats

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except little Amelia. **

**A/N: So, now that the whole stolen story situation has been properly taken care of, we're full steam ahead! I can't thank you all enough for your positive comments and encouragement. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

"Anything you want to tell me before we land, Agent Barton?"

Nick Fury's one good eye burned into Clint with the intensity of a thousand suns as he sat sandwiched in between two other agents clad in full field gear. He was always calm and collected under Fury's command, but right now the director had him feeling like a brat with his hand caught in the cookie jar. The space in the back of the helicopter was cramped and stifling, though it could have been Clint's imagination. He had warned Natasha over their comm units before Fury had dragged him off the Helicarrier and only hoped the rest of the team had enough time to get their shit together. Clint's insistence that the other agents tagging along—wearing their protective gear and carrying weapons, no less—were unnecessary fell upon deaf ears. The thought of a pair of them waving their guns anywhere near Amy made his blood boil.

Though, to be fair, Fury had no idea he was about to encounter a toddler with superhuman abilities.

Fury had finally cornered Clint in a corridor of the Helicarrier after he had been artfully avoiding him for weeks. He couldn't even make a quick escape through any ventilation ducts this time or make a jump for the rafters. Fury confronted him about Stark's habit of screening and rejecting every phone call he made to the Tower and told him of a recent development Clint hadn't known been aware of. It appeared as though Stark had closed off all communication lines and Fury was practically steaming at the ears over it. He had a right to be angry, even if Clint didn't want to admit it outright. They'd secluded themselves from SHIELD's prying eyes for _months_ while Stark and Banner had been holed up in their lab.

He hadn't given Fury specifics about the current state of affairs in the Tower. It wasn't his place to convey the whole story without the rest of the Avengers. All the good director knew was that Stark and Banner had worked on a new project and it had kept the entire team quite preoccupied. Fury didn't know how to take that and what it meant for SHIELD.

Clint wasn't so sure, either.

He stiffened. "No, sir," he said, his gaze out the window, "I think it's, uh, better if you saw it for yourself."

"Something tells me I won't like what I see."

Fury's jaw was set firm, his expression stoic and disapproving. Lines creased his forehead while he tossed Clint's words back and forth. The agents on either side of him exchanged looks. Fury crouched near the doorway as if he was preparing himself to leap out the moment they landed. Nothing about this made Clint feel at ease, especially the uncertain future of their daughter. He tensed when they hovered closer to Stark Tower and readied to move in on the roof's landing pad.

"I figure it would be best if Stark and Dr. Banner explained the situation."

Fury kept his eye trained on their objective. "Now I know I don't like the sound of that."

Clint was on Fury's heels the second he made a beeline for the entrance up to the conference room, the two agents traipsing dutifully after him. He knew all about stalling tactics (he had a sordid history with them, most of which Natasha was aware) and if he could buy the team some time to get their heads on straight, it was worth a shot.

"Sir," Clint called in a short, firm tone.

He was certain that if Fury chose to halt and listen to anyone, it would be him. They had a rare level of trust, which was part of the reason why he'd had so much trouble evading the subject of Amy in his presence. Fury had the instinct to know when something was amiss in his best agent. It wasn't like Clint to appear distant on the job. Fury paused inches from the door and sighed, shoulders drooping.

"Whatever's in there, I'm not going to be happy about it, so if you _do_ have anything to say—"

Clint interrupted and tossed a thumb in the direction of the two field agents gathered behind him. He really,_ really_ did not appreciate the way their index fingers danced along the triggers of their weapons, itching for a target. He guessed some sort of territorial instinct had kicked in. Natasha would have laughed at him. Not that she wasn't already; it had taken her a full thirty seconds to compose herself after he'd kept asking her about Amy.

"Sir, I can tell you we won't be needing them. They should wait out here or take the helicopter back to base."

"You know I don't go into a situation like this without muscle," Fury protested, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not with the amount of potential hostiles in this place."

"Dr. Banner hasn't had an incident since Manhattan."

"Banner's not the one I'm worried about." Clint could practically feel the two agents' apprehension. He shifted his weight on his feet and the corner of his mouth lifted into a thin smirk.

"Loki? He's not a problem anymore."

"That remains to be seen," Fury said. His eye strayed beyond Clint's shoulder, like he was surveying the city that was still in stages of repair. Loki and his Chitauri assholes had stomped the living crap out of it and the wounds weren't yet healed. "I know Asgard's got a short leash on him from where they sit, but I still don't like him hanging around here. I only allowed it because Thor promised to babysit." He let out another long-suffering sigh. "Loki is _far _from getting on my good side, and frankly, most days, I'd like to put a bullet in his thick skull. You of all people should understand that."

"I do," Clint answered, "but I'm all the muscle you're going to need, sir. If you don't send them off, I'm going to be awfully tempted to use them as target practice."

Not that he needed the practice. They'd have arrows through their kneecaps faster than they could even consider raising their weapons.

"Can I trust you on this?"

"I'd swear on it," Clint assured.

Fury relented. "All right, you heard the man," he said, waving an arm toward the helicopter, "Head back to base. I'll call for a ride when I'm done here."

Clint swore he could feel the discarded agents giving him the mental middle finger.

* * *

"Director Fury has requested your presence in the conference room."

It had taken Thor almost ten minutes to coax Loki out of his room and meet the rest of the group by the elevator. Everyone else had listened to his thunderous voice bounce off the walls, growing more agitated by the second, until they heard something that sounded suspiciously like the door being unhinged. Tony had rolled his eyes at that point, muttering about something else he'd have to fix, and then Thor appeared holding Loki by the shoulder. Steve was positive Loki had given up struggling just to see the rest of team squirm and attempt to explain their newest debacle to a man who equally hated his guts.

They piled into the elevator for an awkward ride up to the conference room—it seemed these days that no ride in the elevator for the entire team could be described as anything other than awkward or uncomfortable. And it wasn't just because everyone had a difficult time fitting in the damn thing all at once.

"Here we go, kids," Tony said. He'd been humming a classic rock tune after muttering about an idea to install a sound system in the elevator (because listening to Tony's playlist would somehow be better than the awkward). "Another fun-filled family gathering. I hope everyone's ready for this shit storm. I'm gonna need a drink. Or, make that several drinks. Maybe even a whole bottle."

"I really hope you boys have thought up an explanation," Natasha said, leveling a look at Bruce and Tony. Amelia was braced against Bruce's shoulder's in a near-standing position so she could see Thor making faces at her while he stood behind Bruce. She had one fistful of Bruce's shirt, her other hand reaching for Thor's face ready to pull his hair.

"Working on it," Bruce said.

"The truth might be a good place to start," Steve advised.

"Either way, we're screwed," Tony remarked.

The elevator beeped and the doors opened to the conference level. The floor had a more office building-like atmosphere, with multiple rooms for conducting business, presentations, and meetings. Tony liked to avoid this level at all costs, considering his allergy to anything business or management related. He let Pepper deal with everything and showed his face when avoidance was impossible. They shuffled down the hallway to the main conference room, a huge space with windows on all sides (and by default, a gorgeous view of the city) and screens with media connectivity and communication lines to none other than SHIELD.

Fury stood at the front of the table, his back to the darkened screens. He had his arms folded neatly behind his back, expression unreadable. Clint, who had been sitting to Fury's left with his gaze trained on his hands, straightened up once he heard their footsteps approach. Natasha caught the smile that flittered across his face for a millisecond before he settled and waited for Fury's reaction. It wouldn't take very long for the shit to hit the fan.

Bruce filed in next-to-last, Loki trailing behind wearing a devilish, smug grin. He was clearly going to enjoy every last second of this, fully aware that Fury's temper wasn't going to be directed completely at him (though irritating him in the most creative ways possible did provide him with amusement). He wasn't the one in trouble this time around. The Avengers and their…little superbeing were the culprits. Loki couldn't wait to bask in the glory of these _heroes_ facing just punishment for their foolish actions.

Amelia had fallen relatively silent and twisted around in Bruce's arms to get a good look at Nick Fury. She didn't know quite what to make of him. She was used to everyone who occupied the Tower and had never been subjected to outside "visitors." It wasn't like Amy to be shy, but as soon as she spotted Fury, Bruce felt her nestle her face into his neck. Out of instinct, he planted a kiss into her hair to assure her everything was all right, but Amy was determined to keep herself hidden.

Fury's indecipherable expression made Bruce nervous. And his silence had everyone exchanging not-so-discreet glances.

"And who is this?" he asked, finally. "I hope you're on babysitting duty for Ms. Potts, Stark. Though I can't possibly imagine why."

"Ouch. That stung a bit. A low blow, don't you think?" Tony said, tapping his chest. "Right. You're not above cheap shots." He leaned against the glass table. "And you're wrong, by the way. She's not even remotely related to Pepper, though, I find it kind of endearing, in whatever heart I have left, when she considers her a mom."

"Someone want to explain to me what's going on here?" Fury asked. "Why you've been blocking my calls and isolating yourselves? I understand you need room to breathe, but when I come calling, I expect you to _answer_."

"We needed some time," Bruce jumped in. "She kept us busy."

Fury's expression crumbled into one that resembled shock. "Please don't tell me that's your way of saying _this_ is the project Agent Barton mentioned you working on."

"_This_ is a _she_," Tony declared. He'd pounced on the defensive. "_She_."

"And she has a name, sir," Steve wandered into the conversation respectfully, but with confidence in his voice. "We named her Amelia. It's actually something of a miracle that we could all agree." Bless his heart for trying to break the mood in the room with a bit of humor and an all American smile.

"Oh, _hell no_." Fury unfolded his arms and whirled around to face the screens behind him.

It had to be a sick joke. There was no possible way in hell that he was prepared to deal with this situation—whatever it was, exactly. He still didn't want to put the pieces together. It wasn't going to be pretty when he did. In fact, he knew deep in his bones that he would have to pick up after this gigantic clusterfuck. Unfortunately, it was a gigantic clusterfuck wrapped up in a miniature-sized package. And truly, those were the worst kind.

"I'm going to need a bit of clarification," Fury said, "because the only conclusion I'm getting at is one where you geniuses decided to cook up a…a _kid_ in your lab. And if that's the case, well then you've managed to give me a future full of chronic headaches. I've seen a lot of crazy in my time, gentlemen. And hell, 'til now, I thought I'd seen it all. But I guess I was wrong."

Natasha cleared her throat. "Director," she said, "I know it's difficult to process, but—"

"You're damn right it's difficult," Fury countered. "I would expect better from you, Agent Romanoff. And you, Agent Barton." He turned to acknowledge Clint, who ducked his head like a misbehaved puppy. "I leave you all to your own devices and _this_ is what you do?"

"_She_—"

"Don't try my patience, Stark." Fury pointed a finger at Tony and earned an eye roll for his efforts. "What you've done is reckless, irresponsible, and stupid. I don't know what would possess either of you to utilize your intelligence in such a way." From where he had sidled into a chair at the far back corner of the table, Loki gave a derisive snort. Natasha noticed Thor's hand curl into a warning fist. Yeah, Loki was eating this up.

"Director, with all due respect, we've taken responsibility for Amy," Bruce replied. "We know what we're dealing with."

"It doesn't matter," Fury said. "It doesn't excuse the fact that you kept knowledge of your _project_ from myself and SHIELD. I don't think you realize the magnitude of the situation, Doctor. This is not an environment fit for a child."

"Right. And a SHIELD base is?" Bruce's tone dripped with cynicism.

"No. A normal family, for starters."

"It's not that simple," Bruce shot back, attempting to keep his temper under control. "You can't just send her away."

"If it's in her best interest, I'll do whatever's in my power."

"No, actually, you really can't," Tony interrupted. He hoisted himself off the edge of the glass table. "See, Dr. Banner's right. It's far from simple, and you can't ship her off to some white picket fence family and be done with it, all right? _We_ make the decisions about what happens to Amy because she's ours. Biologically, she's ours. And, as long as it's good with everyone else in this room, which, I'm sure it is because we've all had an impressive track record so far, she's going to stay."

"And what do you mean when you say 'biologically yours'?"

Tony plastered on a suggestive grin. "I don't have to explain _that_ to you, do I?"

Natasha quelled the urge to smack Tony. "We're her biological parents."

"All…of you?"

"She carries DNA from each one of us," Bruce clarified. "We coded her genetics with traits from everyone."

Fury braced his hands against the table and heaved a sigh. They were almost sure he would send his fist flying through it at any moment. Luckily, after he bowed his head toward the table's surface (and most likely did a deep-breathing exercise or counted to ten), he straightened up without causing damage to the furniture.

"I don't know how to respond to that," he said. "It doesn't make the situation any better. In fact, it makes it more dangerous. If this…_child _is a product of one of the most powerful forces this planet has seen, there are plenty of ways this could go wrong."

"Not if we raise her right, teach her how to use her skills," Clint said quietly.

"No matter how you slice it, she's a threat. A danger to not only herself, but to everyone else. Her existence is as unpredictable as the very idea of the Avengers was. She cannot go unmonitored by SHIELD. I can't allow that. How long were you planning to keep her out of my sight before I noticed?"

"I was hoping 'til she was at least eighteen," Tony shrugged. "And she's not SHIELD's business."

"The hell she's not!" Fury yelled. "You forget our job is to keep tabs on potential threats. Each one of you has a file in our database. Excuse me if I thought we were past all of this. SHIELD needs to monitor her for the safety of herself and the population of this city. I'm sorry if I can't give a damn if you don't like it. I have a job to maintain. Frankly, it's my belief that she would be safer on base, under supervision."

"What? In a cell?" Steve asked. His anger was evident. If Thor hadn't grabbed his forearm, he would have darted across the room to confront Fury himself.

"It would depend on what she's capable of."

"You act like she's going to terrorize the city at any second," Tony said. "It's overdramatic and a little insulting. I mean, look at her. She can't even walk yet. She's the least threatening person in this room."

"Well, I don't know what I'm dealing with here. I'd rather not take a chance."

"Amelia is not to leave the Tower in anyone else's care," Thor agreed. "We are her family and with us she shall remain."

"She needs to be documented," Fury insisted. "and, we need to know exactly what she is, what she has the potential to do. I'll allow all of you to escort her to base so we can follow the necessary protocols. We're going to need Stark and Dr. Banner for questioning."

"But you're not going to keep her, right?" Natasha asked.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," he answered. "We leave in ten minutes."

Clint caught Natasha's field of vision and something like panic flickered in his eyes. Fury tapped into his comm unit and mumbled orders for a Quinjet at Stark Tower before disappearing out the nearest exit. Every one of them fought the urge to smash the table in front of them to pieces the moment Fury left their sight. The closest Thor came to displaying his anger was to topple over a few chairs with a single swing of his arm. Amy fussed and rubbed her eyes, either tired, hungry, or a combination of the two. Bruce had a feeling she could pick up on the tension clouding the room and raked a gentle hand through her curls.

"I hate this," Clint said as he stood and made his way over to Bruce and Amy. "It doesn't sit right with me. They get their hands on her…it's worse knowing what they could do."

"They're not taking her away," Natasha said. "We wouldn't let that happen. We just have to negotiate."

"Everything about it seems like a bad idea," Steve declared. "Even if we shake them off our backs now, they're not going to give up. They watch us, they watch Amy."

"We are her family," Thor persisted. "_Nothing_—no one else should be able to replace that."

In his spot at the far edge of the table, Loki shifted uncomfortably.


	8. Superhuman Brat

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Except Amy.**

* * *

News of the Avengers' arrival aboard the Helicarrier left the entire place buzzing a half hour before they set foot on the colossal airship floating above the harbor. Elder agents went about like business as usual, but the recruits fresh from training who hadn't been present for the team's assembly were more than a little eager to get a first-hand glance of the superheroes. The team made their way to the research and science wing, while Fury pulled a reluctant (and very sardonic, though that was nothing new) Tony Stark to a private meeting room. Dr. Banner trailed behind and dared a glance to the retreating group before his shoulders sagged in defeat. He disappeared looking like he would rather be anywhere but on the Helicarrier again. No one exactly held it against him, either.

"All right, people, back to work," Agent Maria Hill called, attempting to corral the nosy fledgling agents who clogged up the narrow hallways. She'd seen a couple of them nearly start a fight in the process and had to cast a hard stare at a young woman who was looking to get a picture of Thor with her camera phone. "Just because we have a few visitors _does not mean_ business as usual should stop."

It wasn't just because the now world-famous Avengers had made a (pretty rare) appearance among the rank and file of SHIELD. It was what they carried with them. Or, rather, _who_. Hushed voices surrounded both the presence of Loki—and caused a few agents to shrink back, the memories of what he had done still clear in their minds—and the toddler cradled against Agent Barton's shoulder. Thor had an unflinching hold on his brother's arm, though Loki looked like he wanted to murder him rather than be carted around like some misbehaved child. Which, by all accounts, wasn't such an inaccurate description. Agent Hill ducked into the conference room after the others, quirking an eyebrow at the curly haired toddler burrowed into Clint's shoulder.

Natasha fell into step beside Clint. "I don't like the way they're looking at her."

"They're curious," he offered.

"No…this is something more offensive."

Clint tossed her a crooked smirk. "Yeah, I don't like it, either," he said, "but what're they going to do, Tasha? Half of those new ones are terrified of me."

"As they should be."

"Right," Clint laughed. "Nice to know my reputation's still intact around here."

Natasha smiled, a fleeting grin that didn't reach her eyes. Amy whined and buried her face into Clint's chest, one fist gripped around a tassel that hung from one of the zippers on his uniform. Her forehead rested against him so that her gaze was on Natasha while she walked. She had heard Natasha's voice and tuned into it, perhaps out of the comfort of familiarity.

Clint knew she needed a nap, but the foreign corridors of the Helicarrier kept her alert with both mild interest and shy fear. She wasn't used to being around so many people, most of whom were whispering about her. Clint was grateful her fear hadn't erupted into a temper tantrum instead, though the fact that she was scared to begin with caused him to hurl scathing glares at anyone who managed to even_ look_ at their daughter.

"What's wrong?" he asked Natasha.

"Nothing." Her jaw was set.

"I'm the only one who knows when you're lying."

They turned down a vacant corridor leading into the research and science labs. With the sudden presence of white lab coats on the horizon, Natasha tensed.

"I don't want them to take her," she confided. "Once they do, they could make her into something she isn't, or…put her in a cage like an animal."

"They won't," Clint said. His eyes searched hers, his tone serious.

"She's us, right? But she doesn't have to be…_us_. I don't want that for her, Clint. She deserves a _choice_. If she wants to become an agent one day, fine, I won't stop her, but I don't want her locked away in here or manipulated—"

"Natasha," Clint lowered his voice and grabbed her wrist, gently, with his free hand. "We won't let it happen. You know we won't. You said it yourself, back at the Tower. They can't do anything to her without our consent. And they sure as hell aren't going to take her away. Thor would strike them down before they tried."

He released her wrist from his light grip and she slid her hand into his, their fingers intertwining for a moment before she let go and wandered to the front of the group next to Steve. They'd arrived at the glass doors of the sterile science labs, where a perky yet official-looking woman who could not be much older than Natasha herself appeared with a tablet cradled in her arm. Her blonde hair was tied up in an impossibly tight ponytail. She peered over her glasses at them before calling up some information on the tablet.

"I'm Dr. Sophia Reed," she introduced. "I'll be overseeing Amelia's case. If you'll follow me into the lab, we'll get started."

They followed her to a room near the back of the lab, where a couple of nurses stood waiting in an examination room that was cordoned off from the rest of the space.

"Mr. Stark forwarded Amelia's records, everything he and Dr. Banner kept track of before and after her creation," Dr. Reed explained, hesitating with the last word. Clint could guess she was weirded out by the whole situation, but there was an eager, intrigued spark in her demeanor. "And since we have to follow proper protocols here, we'll need to start our own files. We'll be running a series of tests and taking a few DNA samples, plus her fingerprints, all the normal procedures."

"Nothing that will hurt her?" Steve asked.

"Other than a little pin prick for a blood sample, no," Dr. Reed answered. "She's in good care. You'll have nothing to worry about. Aside from the physical tests, I'd like to assess her cognitive abilities. Her records indicate she's already displaying a high level of intelligence. Has she started talking?"

"Not yet," Natasha replied.

"Well, it's not an indicator of anything. Our own curiosity, more or less. How about her movement?"

"We think she might skip the crawling stage and go straight to walking," Natasha said. "She's been trying to pull herself up lately."

"Excellent." Dr. Reed made a note on her tablet. "Now, I'll allow two of you in here while we're taking samples and running the physical tests. It's hard to work with a crowd, so—"

"Understandable," Clint said. "Who wants in?"

Loki elected to stay outside, and by default, Thor had to take on babysitting duties even though Natasha could sense he hated not being by Amy's side. Loki was unhappy that his brother hovered over him like a pest, but then again, he hated being aboard the Helicarrier in the first place, so he was stuck in another no-win scenario. It sucked all around.

"Natasha should stay," Steve suggested. "I'd like to stay, too, if you don't mind, Barton."

"If you can pry Amy from my shoulder," Clint laughed.

He kissed the top of Amy's head and handed her over to Steve, who gathered her against his hip. Amy fussed and started to cry. Her lower lip trembled and her cheeks grew red. As if Clint couldn't feel any worse, she had to start sobbing, doing the whole chin wobbling routine. He was, admittedly, a sucker for that.

"Walk away, Clint," Natasha said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "She'll be okay."

Defeated, Clint trailed Thor and Loki out of the lab, leaving behind their wailing toddler with Natasha and Steve. Dr. Reed told them to seat Amy on the examination table so they could first take a blood sample. And since Amy had turned uncooperative, kicking against Steve's leg and pounding a fist against his chest, that simple task in itself proved difficult. It was also clear that Dr. Reed had zero experience with children. She'd been caught off guard by Amy's outburst and jumped back when Amy grabbed her stethoscope and flung it across the room. She was frazzled by the crying, while the nurses lingered waiting for Amy to calm down.

"Shh," Steve said. "Shh, Amy. It's all right." He ran his fingers through her hair and thumbed away the tears that ran down her face. Natasha noticed the tone of his voice morph into a soft paternal croon like it always did when he took on parenting duties.

"Maybe if you sit up there with her," Natasha advised.

Steve hopped up on the table beside Amelia and snaked an arm around her back. Natasha did not relax her tensed stance, especially when one of the nurses prepped Amy for the blood sample. If they thought her crying was loud now, they were grossly unprepared.

* * *

Agent Hill slid through the holographic pages in front of her, skimming the documentation of the daily progress Tony and Bruce had kept during those long, arduous months. She shook her head in utter disbelief and tried to wrap her mind around the story the detailed files told. It was strange, sure. And she had seen a shocking amount of strange, same as Fury. Amelia's existence was something she never thought possible. Nor had she ever given thought to dealing with a case such as hers. But she would be lying if she said it didn't pique her interest.

"This is incredible," she said at last.

"Not exactly the word I'd use for it," Fury countered from where he sat in a chair across from Tony and Bruce. Tony was slouched in his chair while Bruce had decided to ignore his. He opted for quiet pacing and wrung his hands in the process, his thoughts elsewhere.

"I mean, this is…it's brilliant. The amount of work the two of you did, the complexity that went into her creation. It's—"

"It's stupid," Fury interrupted.

"I take offense to that," Tony protested.

"Good."

"I'm kind of offended by that, too," Bruce said quietly. Tony slapped him a smooth high-five, reaching back to meet Bruce's hand. Bruce didn't cease his methodic pacing but continued to address Fury. "You're looking at her like she's a sideshow freak, a…a…mad science experiment gone wrong. She's not, Director, she's a little girl. A human being."

"A human being who just so happens to possess not only a wide range of super abilities, but also the DNA of a demi-god."

"Sir," Agent Hill came to their defense, "she's a scientific breakthrough. A miracle of modern technology."

"_Thank you_," Tony said, quite tersely.

"I didn't call this meeting to discuss the ethical ramifications," Fury stated. "My concern here is that this _child_ is a combination of a dangerous force. What I want to know is why. Why did you two geniuses decide to go ahead and create this…superbeing? And did you actually think the fact that _Loki's_ DNA is in her genetic coding was going to slip past me? I've seen the records. So, enlighten me: what was the _purpose_? You didn't just create a kid. You created a _weapon_."

That set Tony off.

Bruce seized his shoulder before he was able to make a dive in Fury's direction.

"No," he shouted. "No. _She is not a weapon!_ You understand? She's not! You aren't going to reduce that little girl in there," he pointed haphazardly off to the side, "to some nuclear missile lab rat for your benefit. That's not who she is. And I don't _ever_ want to hear you compare her to that again, you got that?"

* * *

Things hadn't gone smoothly. Not by a long shot. Amy was more uncooperative than she had ever been in her life so far, and neither Steve nor Natasha could blame her for it. (Though they wished she would settle down so they could get off the Helicarrier and back home sooner rather than later.) She had thrown the most epic temper tantrum Steve had ever seen her display while the nurses and Dr. Reed performed the physical tests and took harmless samples. Amy had almost broken the device used to scan her fingerprints and footprints into the system and one nurse had received a harsh kick to the face in the process. During the physical exam—part of which tested her strength—Amy had latched onto a chunk of Dr. Reed's hair and wouldn't let go. The team was used to this unpleasant ordeal (because Amy was inquisitive and liked to touch _everything_) but Dr. Reed was not. By the time Natasha had gotten Amy to let go, her neat ponytail was a ragged mess.

Amy had turned into the world's biggest superhuman brat, and secretly Natasha was proud of their daughter for resisting against strangers. She was smart. She didn't like her new surroundings and it had brought out a nasty streak of rebellion. Meanwhile, Steve found himself apologizing profusely every five minutes for Amy's uncharacteristic behavior. She had her moments of crankiness at home, but this was far worse. Steve returned sheepish looks to the scientists and doctors whose work was disturbed by Amy's incessant screaming.

"I'm sorry," he told Dr. Reed, "she's usually not this bad."

"Are we almost done here?" Natasha asked. "I think Amy needs a nap."

Dr. Reed appeared hesitant. She opened her mouth and then closed it, the words trapped. She made a note on her tablet before she dared to speak again.

"Actually, I'd like to discuss another option with the entire team, if that's possible."

* * *

There was a steadily building cloud of seething tension in the room, and if Agent Hill didn't jump into the fray soon, someone was going to explode. She allowed Tony some time to cool off before she slid into a chair at the table.

"Just tell us why you gave Amelia genetic traits from all of you," she said. "I think the director will be satisfied with a clear answer."

Bruce finally settled into a chair. "We got to talking about it," he started. "We wondered if it would have been possible. There's really no clear answer. There were a couple of failed attempts before Amelia pulled through, and even then it was touch-and-go."

He removed his glasses, folded them, and placed them on the table. Bruce's voice took on a solemn undertone when he continued.

"I'm not getting any younger, director," he said with a empty laugh. "The original plan was for me to raise Amy. Somewhere remote, most likely, to keep the Other Guy in check. For the longest time I thought maybe it would work. I thought I'd finally get what I wanted. But even now I don't trust myself. It wouldn't have been possible. A pipe dream, at best. It's better this way, with all of us around to share the responsibility. Amy, she…keeps me sane."

Fury sighed. "In any case, her existence cannot be made public, at least not at this time."

"And what do you propose we do about her, sir?" Agent Hill inquired, brow raised.

"I don't know."

"Keeping her here, it's out of the question," she said. "She needs her parents, not a facility full of strangers."

"I knew I liked you for a reason," Tony said, breaking his stubborn silence.

"We can still keep track of her from Stark Tower. I know you think she presents a threat, but the best thing for her is a familiar environment. I firmly believe she'll grow up to be an ally, not an enemy. It's obvious they care about her, sir."

The door to the conference room opened, and a young agent stepped tentatively into the middle of their conversation.

"Excuse me, director," he said. "Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner are needed in the labs."

An expression of panic crossed Bruce's face. "Is everything all right?"

"Dr. Reed said it's nothing urgent. She wants to speak with you."

Tony and Bruce exchanged glances before they headed to the door. They walked briskly, leaving Fury and Agent Hill behind, even when Fury had called after them that their conversation was far from over. The two of them made their way through the winding maze of corridors by memory, dodging young agents on tip-toe and even more not-so-discreet camera phones. Normally, Tony would have been all over that, posing for pictures and whatever else, but Fury had put him in a sour mood.

"Have I expressed how much I _hate_ the idea of these SHIELD scientists breathing the same air as her?" he asked Bruce. "If they wanted their own records, they should've just let us handle it. I don't like them."

"I'm sure they're doing fine."

"Yeah, but they're not us," Tony persisted. "Don't tell me it doesn't make you want to bash someone's face in. Come on. They do things by the book. Amy is _not_ by the book."

"Oh, it bothers the hell out of me," Bruce said. "I'm trying not to think about it. Among…other things."

Tony clapped him on the back as he pulled his phone of his pocket. Pepper was calling him.

"Don't sweat it," he said. He answered the call and lifted the phone to his ear. "Pepper. Nice to hear from you."

"Tony," she greeted. "I came home and no one was here. JARVIS said you'd left with SHIELD. Are you—is everything okay? Is Amy okay? What's going on?"

"We went on a little field trip," he replied. "Lots of fun, let me tell you. Everyone's having such a great time and I'll definitely be leaving a comment card for their superb hospitality on the way out."

"What about Amy? Are they going to let her stay with us?"

Tony couldn't hide his grin. "You're fond of the little tyke, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," Pepper laughed. "It's hard not to be. She's part you."

Tony laughed. "Is that it?"

"Bring her home safe," Pepper told him. "Please."

"You got it."

Tony joined the rest of the team outside the examination room where they were congregated. Amy had stopped her flailing and crying the very moment she caught sight of the rest of her family, which seemed to baffle Dr. Reed. It didn't take a genius to figure out whose company Amy preferred. Amy was in the safety of Thor's hold, his arms wrapped like a cocoon around her. Her head was slowly but surely drooping against his chest, and within minutes, Tony knew she would be out like a light. All the kid needed was some shut-eye.

"Well, now that I have all of you here," Dr. Reed began, "I wanted to bring up an alternative to document the rest of Amelia's progress. We still have numerous tests to run—her motor skills, cognitive abilities…I'd like to do a full work-up."

"Great," Bruce said curtly.

"Can't you just use what Stark gave you?" Clint asked.

"I think it would be best if I assessed her skills first hand."

"Good luck with that," Tony cut in. "She's finally getting in that nap you guys denied her. Based on past experience, she'll be out for at least two hours. Maybe three."

Dr. Reed smiled, and neither Tony, Clint, or Steve liked it. "With your permission, I'd like to keep her overnight for further observation."

No sooner than the words were out of her mouth, the team shouted a resounding chorus of, "No," "Absolutely not," and "I don't fucking think so." Thor had taken a protect step back, pulling a now sleeping Amy tighter to his chest. If she was serious about this, she would have to fight the god of thunder and the rest of the Avengers first. The chances of her winning were nonexistent.

"Look, I know it's not easy, but I promise we will take more than good care of her," Dr. Reed promised.

"She's not your guinea pig to experiment on," Steve said. His tone was full of patriarchal no-nonsense. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but it's out of the question."

"They're harmless tests, I can assure you. It's all proper procedure."

"We'd feel better if she came home with us," Natasha said.

"I understand."

"No, I don't think you do," Tony declared. He crossed his arms over his chest. "We're not leaving our kid here. It's not happening."

"If it would make you feel more at ease, I would be more than happy to let a few of you stay with her."

"Maybe some other time," Tony decided. "We're going home, so…thanks for everything. I'll have my people call your people. Come on, gang."

"Tony," Bruce said softly, "I hate this as much as you do, but if we don't do this now, they'll never shut up about it. I'll…I'll stay here with Amy."

"You'd do that?" Steve asked.

"You're not exactly the Helicarrier's biggest fan," Clint said.

"No," Bruce said, scratching the back of his neck. His anxiety was more than obvious. "But I think I can handle one night. For Amy, at least. I can help out, if that's all right with you, Dr. Reed. She might behave better if I'm there. And I'd be around to make sure they don't do anything we wouldn't agree with."

"Are you sure about this, Bruce?" Natasha asked.

Bruce wrung his hands. "Yeah," he laughed. "What could go wrong?"

* * *

**A/N: Longest chapter yet. I hope you liked it. Leave some of your thoughts and/or ideas on the way out, if you'd like! I appreciate your reviews and favorites! You guys are awesome. **


	9. The Hulk

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone except Amy. **

**A/N: So sorry for the delay. I got caught up in coursework and couldn't find the time to write this chapter. It's extra long, so I hope that makes up for the wait. And, there's a Halloween chapter to look forward to. Drop me a line to let me know your thoughts on it! Enjoy!**

* * *

"What is he _thinking_?"

Pepper paced back and forth in front of where Tony was sprawled across the couch with a drink clutched in his fist. One hand planted on her hip, her steps were frantic as she spoke. Tony was honestly surprised it had taken her this long to voice her opinion on the matter, because she hadn't done so when the group had shuffled home without Amy in tow as he had promised. The team had gone their separate ways to opposite corners of the Tower, though they had all lingered for awhile, looking hopelessly lost without their little girl.

"I mean, I know I wasn't there when it happened, but last time he tore the place apart. Why would he volunteer to stay—why would you _let him_ stay there?"

"He knows what he's doing. And, really, I couldn't have stuck around another minute, otherwise someone would've gotten my fist in their face." Tony said. "You don't trust him?"

"Of course I trust _him_, Tony," Pepper replied, plopping down onto the couch beside him, "but what if—"

Tony wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him. "Banner loves that kid. More than, I don't know, any other person, ever. It's nauseating."

Pepper punched him in the arm. "You know you love her, too." She lowered her voice and turned to rest her chin on his shoulder. "I've seen you asleep in the chair in her nursery. She still sleeps on your chest. Also, I don't think I need to remind you that you spent several thousand dollars shopping online for things she didn't even need."

What Pepper didn't mention, however, was that she'd caught him whispering to Amy at night after she fell asleep across his chest with her fingers still draped over the arc reactor. Amy should have been learning to sleep on her own in her crib—they'd been trying, with _trying_ being the key word—but obviously Tony couldn't grasp the concept, either. There was a monitor on their bedside table and these days Tony was a much lighter sleeper than she was. By the time Pepper awoke and noticed the space beside her was empty, Tony had the situation taken care of. Sure, he shirked parenting duties on most occasions during the day, but Pepper had caught him many times at night silently slipping into a paternal role when he figured no one else was around. Pepper had leaned against the outside wall of the nursery and listened to Tony talk to Amy in hushed tones, telling her stories and, only once, confessing to the source of his sleeplessness after the events in Manhattan.

Tony took a long sip from his glass before he spoke. "It goes without saying." He paused and let the ice in the glass clink together with an absentminded flick of his wrist.

But he did say it. Numerous times, while Amy was slumbering against his chest. Pepper had heard that, too. "I love you, you know," he'd tell her. And Pepper had a feeling he had been whispering that in her ear ever since she was in the lab, just so she_ would _know and never forget it.

"Look, I get that it makes you nervous. Fury's got it covered…and then some. He wasn't very cozy with the idea of Banner overstaying his welcome, but personally, I think he likes him more than me, though in light of recent events it's hard to tell." He set his glass down on the table next to the couch. "Banner didn't have an incident the entire time Amy was in the lab. She's safe."

"The Helicarrier is a completely different environment," Pepper countered.

Tony sighed. "Even if—and there's a big emphasis on the _if_—something happens, Amy isn't going to be in harm's way. Banner wouldn't let it happen, the other agents wouldn't, hell, Fury wouldn't, and he's not her biggest fan. We could be there in five minutes if it makes you feel better."

"I'm holding you to it."

"If it gets you to quit worrying."

"It doesn't, but it's a nice thought, anyway." Pepper got up from the couch and unhooked Tony's arm from around her shoulders. She kept his hand entwined with hers and plastered on a suggestive grin. "I'm going to take a shower. Care to join me?"

Tony raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. "Well, if it'll take your mind off things…"

"It might."

* * *

Natasha was half-asleep when she heard the less-than-gentle knock on her bedroom door. The fact that her eyes were closed and she had been semi-coherent hadn't detracted from her being able to detect someone lingering outside in the hallway. She rolled over on her side to face the threshold and bent her knees to find a more comfortable position, bare toes stretching against the comforter. She knew precisely whose shadow she could see in the space underneath the door.

"Come in, Clint," she said, voice clinging to sleep more than her body was.

A moment passed before the door opened, tentatively, and Clint crossed into the room looking very much like a lost puppy. (Which was an expression Natasha wasn't aware he had been capable of.) He had changed out of his SHIELD gear and into a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting T-shirt. He had wanted to stay behind with Bruce and Amy, but Fury sent him home. Apparently, he wasn't too happy with Clint's secret-keeping. Clint raked a hand through his hair and sunk down onto the mattress by Natasha's side.

"I thought you were teaching Thor and Steve how to play video games," she said.

"I was," Clint laughed.

"And was the mission successful?"

"Yeah. Yeah…" he said, but his mind was somewhere else. "Never thought I'd see Gramps and Beowulf playing Mario Kart. I don't know if the Xbox will be able to survive the two of them. I, uh, couldn't listen to their arguing anymore."

"I figured you were the most competitive one."

"You haven't seen Thor," Clint answered. "I thought he was going to put his foot through the TV when Steve threw a banana peel at him."

Natasha laughed. "Are you sure leaving them unsupervised is a good idea?"

"Well, I didn't want to get a controller thrown at my head."

"Please. You wouldn't let it hit you," she said. "It would've been a nice distraction."

"From…?"

Natasha propped her chin up in her palm, hair tumbling softly to the side. "Don't play dumb, Clint."

"Was worth a shot."

She gave him a knowing stare and Clint smiled. "Right. Look who I'm talking to."

"It's only one night," Natasha reminded him. "She'll be back here first thing tomorrow. I didn't realize your separation anxiety was this bad."

He shrugged. "I don't like not being around to…watch out for her, I guess…I don't know."

"What are you going to do when she goes to school?"

"Try not to think that far ahead," Clint said. He leaned back against Natasha's legs. "Or, plant myself on the roof of her school."

"And watch out for what? Unruly five year olds tugging on her pigtails?"

"If I have to."

Natasha grinned and jabbed her knee into Clint's back. "I take pity on any of her future boyfriends."

Clint groaned. "Nope. Nope. Nope. We're not going there." He pulled himself back up to a sitting position. "I'll have arrows waiting with their names on them."

"I have a feeling you'd have to fight Thor and Steve for that honor. Which is something I'd pay to see."

"You mean you wouldn't want to dropkick the first guy who breaks her heart?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I'd teach Amy to do that herself."

* * *

It wasn't a matter of _if_, it was more of a matter of _when_. Bruce wasn't about to let Fury in on that. Fury wasn't thrilled about him hanging around and his backup plans were very clear indications of his feelings on the situation. Dr. Reed and the others had relocated Amy to an observation room a short distance from the new detention cell (obviously for Bruce's benefit). It was built much like the first one; all the same bells and whistles, a huge glass cage able to drop out of the airship at the press of a button, and easier access in case of an emergency. Bruce wasn't fond of being locked away in there, but if it kept Amy out of the Other Guy's path, then he would do anything. He hoped it wouldn't have to be broken in tonight. However, bearing in mind past experience, the Hulk's reputation against the Helicarrier wasn't sunshine and rainbows.

Rumor was, Fury had agents in place to make sure Bruce's counterpart didn't cost SHIELD another airship. Knowing there were agents now specially trained to cart him off to the cell at the first sign of trouble and subdue (or make an attempt to) the Hulk did not bode well for his current mood. It was likely to set him off. If it was the only way he could observe Amy, then fine—at least he wasn't already caged. Either way, though, he had a strong feeling he was going to become best friends with it soon.

Bruce stopped wringing his hands and tore his gaze away from Amy, who was playing with a few building blocks and other objects in the presence of Dr. Reed, to his wristwatch. Nine-thirty. Something told him it was going to be a long night. He was used to those in the lab, of course, but here things were different. The lab at least had a couch and other useful amenities. Bruce preferred the company of Tony's robots (even if they found new ways to irritate him) over the SHIELD agents breathing down his neck (and waiting outside the bathroom like sentries, which treaded on a whole new level of invasive and creepy). He was sure Amy harbored the same sentiments. It was no fun being a toddler trapped in a room under the watchful eyes of strangers in lab coats. They saw Amy as their shiny new toy. The faster they could be out of here and back home, the better—for both of them.

"Dr. Banner." Bruce's attention snapped out of his useless musings and saw Maria Hill approaching him. He wondered, briefly, if Fury had sent her out to do extra babysitting, but the expression on her face disregarded that notion.

She held out a Styrofoam cup with steam rising into the air. "Are you okay?"

Bruce took it with a grateful nod. "I've been better," he admitted. He stared down at the piping hot liquid. "Thanks. And, uh, please—call me Bruce."

Maria crossed her arms in front of her before looking in on Amy. She was making an effort to push herself up into a standing position by using one of the other nurses' legs as leverage. Her balance was excellent, and she had been taking a few tentative steps while she kept a tight grasp on pant legs and whatever else. Eventually, though, she would fall back down on her butt and get increasingly frustrated about it. Every so often, Amy would tilt her head up toward the window and find Bruce outside, just to remind herself that he was there. This time, her attention had been drawn to not only Bruce but also Maria. Dr. Reed had to call her name to grab her interest once more.

"She's adorable," Maria smiled. "I'm beginning to think Director Fury might not be good with children."

"A plausible theory."

There was a certain reluctance in Maria's demeanor until she finally spoke again. "This isn't exactly your idea of a good time. I get it."

"Understatement."

"But, I know if they see her…see Amy the way you do, maybe Fury will back off."

"Ah, something tells me it won't be that simple."

"Things around here rarely are," Maria agreed. "He and SHIELD won't take her from you, but they will be a permanent part of her life as much as they are for the rest of your team. There's nothing I can do about that."

"I figured as much," Bruce said flatly. He found himself pondering—all risks aside—what would have happened if they'd stuck to the original plan. If he had taken Amy out of the country, somewhere relatively isolated where he could help others, would SHIELD still have tracked her down?

"Listen, Bruce…" Maria looked him in the eye, "knowing you're Amy's father on paper is one thing, but _seeing_ you with her would help put it in perspective."

"I don't think it's the best idea. Me, in there. With her. It's a tight fit. Not to mention the scathing glances Dr. Reed has been throwing at me all night."

"You're anticipating too much."

"Not…not necessarily anticipating. Preparing might be the more accurate term."

Bruce gestured to the agents posted around the observation room, each of them stoic and permanently attached to their weapons. Maria shrugged her shoulders and took step closer to Bruce. He was willing to bet she'd done so to test their patience.

"I can't tell them to leave."

"You shouldn't," Bruce said.

"You said Amy keeps you sane," Maria reminded. "So, forget the agents, forget the Helicarrier, forget everything else—"

"I can't."

"Try." Determination flickered across her eyes. "Focus on your daughter and maybe there won't be a problem."

Bruce sighed. "Fingers crossed."

With a hesitant stride, he entered the observation room, setting his cup of coffee on the table near the doorway. Most of the other nurses left to give him some space, or perhaps they'd been present for the last showdown and didn't want to tempt fate again. Amy's face broke into an infectious smile and she clapped her hands together once she saw Bruce. Dr. Reed had settled into a nearby chair with her tablet for notes, and immediately, Amy used her legs for a boost into a standing position. Bruce knelt down on the floor at the opposite end of the room and held out his arms.

"Look at you," he said. "You're getting good at that."

Amy giggled proudly but continued her tight grasp on Dr. Reed's dress pants (all the while Bruce prayed her superior strength wouldn't rip a seam because he would rather avoid the ensuing awkwardness). Again, Dr. Reed appeared to be a little uneasy about it, probably because Amy hadn't behaved very well for her earlier. Amy was less cranky and brat-like since her prolonged nap. Unfortunately, said nap didn't do anything to help Dr. Reed's inability to react well to children. Or, her inability to deal with Bruce. He had a suspicion she'd only been okay with a few of them staying the night provided the volunteer for the job hadn't been him.

Bruce wasn't sorry to put a damper on her plans. She didn't have the rosiest personality for someone in the medical and/or scientific professions. This hadn't slipped past Amy, either, given her excitement upon having him in the room. Bruce swore her entire face said: _thank you daddy for saving me from this crazy woman_.

Amy lost her footing and plopped onto the floor with an annoyed grunt.

"I've been trying to get her to talk, but she isn't responding. It's nothing to be worried over, of course. I think she's being stubborn." Dr. Reed explained. There was a cautious pause. Bruce was used to those. "Are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable watching her out there? I have everything perfectly under control."

Bruce held back a sarcastic remark, but the comment about a possible lack of control made his anger rise.

"I'm fine."

"Really, don't feel that you have to—"

"I said I'm all right," Bruce said through gritted teeth.

"Well, I honestly would prefer—"

"Pardon me, Dr. Reed, but I don't care about your preferences. I have every right to be here."

"I was just keeping in mind your daughter's safety, Dr. Banner," she said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

He had to keep himself in check. It wasn't looking good; every time she spoke to Bruce, his irritation grew. He didn't take well to other people trying to point out his flaws, thinking they could control him, thinking they could make the best decisions for Amy. Dr. Reed's permanent tone of condescension caused his annoyance to swell into something more dangerous. As much as he felt he had been in control of the situation, the idea of it slipped away. He thought he would be okay—Maria's pep talk had given his self-esteem a temporary boost—but now Dr. Reed had to open her pompous mouth and send him into a tailspin. He knew it hadn't been just her. It was a combination of things that had piled up against him in the last few hours.

It'd been awhile since he last felt like this. It was familiar. It wasn't a nice kind of familiar. Maybe some part of her was right. Bruce wasn't up to admitting that. Not now. Definitely not now, when he knew he might be losing grip.

"Bruce," Maria warned, gently, from the other side of the observation window. The agents stationed around her were on edge.

The Other Guy wanted out.

"Dr. Banner?" Dr. Reed asked.

Sure, she would be smug about this. She would probably see to it in her professional opinion that they got some kind of restraining order to separate him from Amy for her best interest. If the Hulk got out, Dr. Reed would be the first target. As angry as he was toward her, Bruce's rational mind knew she didn't deserve that.

Amy let out a small cry and started to crawl across the floor toward him. She could sense it, the subtle changes in his behavior. She knew him just as well as he knew her, and this wasn't typical of Bruce's reserved tone in her presence. Amy sat back a few feet from where Bruce was now hunched over on his hands and knees. She reached out for him, opening and closing her hands in a signal they'd developed for when she wanted to be held (or just simply wanted something or someone). Bruce couldn't see this because his eyes were shut, but he could hear her distressed whines.

"Bruce!" Maria called again.

Bruce could barely hear her. Whatever remaining rationality he had, he understood removing himself from the situation was the best option. His fingernails scraped against the floor to seek purchase and he kept his eyes closed. Part of him hoped it would pass. The other part of him assumed it was a lost cause. The Other Guy wasn't exactly patient.

The door to the observation room burst open and a small team of agents filed in to grab Bruce like they had been counting on it. He felt them seize his arms and lift him from the floor roughly. In the background, he heard Amy start to cry. He struggled against their grip and finally opened his eyes to see Maria's tight-lipped yet apologetic expression. They hadn't hauled him off to the detention cell because Maria had stalled proper protocols to give him a chance. Bruce shouted in anguish, falling to his knees and dragging half the agents with him. They fought to get him to stand again but he was stubborn and his body went rigid. He could still hear Amy sobbing inside the room and the sound tore at him.

He paused when her hysterical crying became more coherent. He swore he'd heard her yell something in between her frantic weeping.

"What did she say?" Bruce managed to ask. His voice was deep and strained.

Maria looked at the open door, mouth agape. "I think," she stumbled over her words, "I-I think she called for you."

"What?" He fought against the agents and the other part of him that threatened a hostile takeover to listen for his daughter. Senses blinded, Bruce continued to make an effort to shake off his captors. "Amy?"

"Agent Hill, we have to move him," one of the agents said, "_now_."

"Just wait!"

"We can't—"

"_Wait!_" Maria snapped.

"Amelia?" Bruce saw Amy in the arms of a very flustered Dr. Reed, her face red and marked with tears. She opened and closed her hands in his direction and made a futile attempt to worm her way out of Dr. Reed's hold. Amy kicked her legs and pushed off Dr. Reed's thighs like she could leap out of her arms if she wanted to. "Amy!"

Though her tears, Amy screamed, "Da!"

Maria knelt down beside Bruce and grabbed his shoulder. "She said her first word," she smiled, though it was faint. "Did you hear her? She called for _you_, Bruce. Listen to her. I know you can get through this—"

"If something happens," he gasped, "don't let her…don't let her see me."

* * *

There wasn't a chance for her to get another word in to protest because the agents started to haul him to the detention cell. Maria stared forlornly ahead where Bruce disappeared, where there was a violent struggle further down the corridor. His shouts rose above those of the team dispatched to subdue him. A gun went off—Maria jumped at the ricochet of a bullet off the wall but was relieved when it didn't make contact. She heard the roar of the Hulk respond to being stowed away in his cage, a loud, desperate howl. Fists pounded against the glass with enough force to shake the entire floor; the Helicarrier would be on alert and Fury would be tracking her down any minute.

Maria stumbled forward from the Hulk's angry tantrum and headed into the observation room where Amy was still flailing in Dr. Reed's arms. She hated to go against Bruce's wishes, but she had to wonder if there was anything that could be done to prevent him from being dropped into the harbor as a last resort. Amy continued fussing and crying for Bruce, perilously close to socking Dr. Reed in the nose.

"Let me take her!"

"That might not be the best idea—"

"I really don't think you're in a position to make that decision right now," Maria said curtly.

Dr. Reed gave her over to Maria (and appeared more at ease after doing so), who cradled Amy protectively against her hip. She took a moment to calm her down, dragging her lithe fingers through Amy's hair and brushing away her tears. Amy hiccupped and let out a couple of shuddered breaths into Maria's shoulder.

Maria massaged circles into the toddler's back and found herself rocking from side to side subconsciously. "Shh," she soothed, "Shh, sweetheart, it's okay."

Amy scrubbed a hand into her eye and picked her head up. "Da," she repeated. "Da…"

"Yeah. Let's go see your dad," Maria said. To the nearest possible agent, she ordered, "Make sure someone alerts Stark Tower of the situation. Let them know everything is under control, but they'll want to get over here ASAP."

After the agent had ducked out, Maria started down the corridor with careful steps. The Hulk's movements in the containment cell still rocked the floor like an earthquake, and his sporadic roars of dissent were enough to make Amy bury her face into Maria's neck. Fury's voice came through her comm unit and halted her in the middle of the corridor.

"Agent Hill, report."

"I'm moving to the detention cell, sir," she explained.

"Unnecessary. The Hulk's been contained."

"I'm aware. I'm taking Amy to see him now. It could help—"

"The hell you are," Fury shouted back. "Of all the places on this ship, that is _not_ where should be. I want her ready for transport back to the Tower. That's an _order_."

"Sorry, sir."

Maria disabled her comm unit and kept walking. She wasn't a hundred percent confident in her decision but if anything, it was worth a try. Maria was prepared to get chewed out for her disobedience later on. She calmed her nerves on the way to the cell by talking to Amy. There wasn't an easy way to explain to a toddler that her father had turned into something that definitely wasn't her father. It would be difficult for her to understand, if she could make sense of it at all. It was a rash decision (and maybe not her decision to make) but Amy witnessing the Hulk at some point in her life would have been unavoidable. If they taught her now, at a young age, who he was wouldn't she have less reasons to fear him? Maria crossed her fingers and hoped.

Amy hid her face in Maria's shoulder and had a hold of the collar of her SHIELD suit. The noise up ahead caused her to fall eerily silent, scared of the shaking under their feet and the ear-splitting roars. The agents were posted around the cell, on alert, awaiting further orders. One of them treated Maria to a dirty look once he saw the toddler in her care.

Maria narrowed her eyes. "Do your job, agent," she said. "Don't worry about me."

He almost objected, but Maria shot him the glare equivalent of the middle finger so he kept his mouth shut. She stood back from the massive transparent cell in front of them, Amy shaking in her hold. The Hulk battered the walls with his humongous fists and Maria had to brace herself against a guardrail to stay on her feet. Carefully, she maneuvered forward closer to the glass and the Hulk hollered in retaliation. Maria heard Amy gearing up for another cry before she lifted her head to face the source of the noise. She shrunk back, eyes wide, her chin trembling. The Hulk struck the wall separating him from Maria and Amy—Maria jumped back, out of instinct, and gathered Amy closer to her.

"Dr. Banner," she addressed, "_please_. I know you're still there."

Maria took back her place in front of the cell. She threaded her fingers through Amy's hair and spoke to her gently. "Amy, call for your dad. This is…this is your dad. But he's in there, okay? He's not going to hurt you. Tell him you're here."

Tentatively, Maria placed her hand on the glass surface to show Amy what she meant. Amy didn't budge at first; her eyes were locked on the Hulk, who growled at them while he watched. Then, slowly, Amy leaned forward and reached out her tiny hand. She spread her fingers across the glass. She studied him, mouth hanging open. A mix of fear and curiosity worked its way onto her face.

She tapped her palm against the window. "Da," she called. Maria didn't know how, but she understood. Amy still saw Bruce. "Da!"

The Hulk uncurled his fist and paused to regard her. A huge green palm pressed against the glass from the other side and mirrored Amy's. Maria saw the agents on the opposite end of the cell exchange glances.

"Agent Hill!" came Fury's harsh command from behind her.

Maria pivoted on her heel and Amy whined, reaching out her arms toward the cell.

"Sir."

"You could have put her in danger," Fury scolded. "You disobeyed orders."

Maria turned back to the glass cage and was startled to see Bruce slumped on the floor in a pair of ragged dress pants. A moment passed before he got to his feet; he looked as though he didn't want to meet Amy's inquisitive stare. She held out her arms to him and opened and closed her hands. All she really wanted was for Bruce to hold her, which confused the hell out of him.

"I'm sorry, sir—"

"She helped me," Bruce cut in. His voice was quiet. "I told her not to, but…she made the right call."

Fury stowed his weapon. "Stark and the others are on their way. I think it's a damn good idea if everyone just went home."


	10. Avengersaurus

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except Amy. **

**A/N: I am terribly sorry for the wait. So, I decided to split this chapter up into 2 parts so I could give you guys something. The semester's winding down, and as a result, I've had a lot of work to focus on, as well as a few side projects I'm working on as well. I hope you guys enjoy this in the meantime! And thank you so much for your patience, reviews, favorites, and alerts! Enjoy. **

* * *

In a matter of weeks, the main floors of the Tower had become something of an obstacle course. Luckily, the team was comprised of highly athletic and trained individuals, so hopping over the gates that Stark had rigged wasn't a complete chore. In fact, some of them liked to make a game out of it, especially when a few of them (namely Barton and Thor) had consumed a bit too much alcohol, which often led to bruises and expletives not suitable for Amy's ears. Stark's gates were his usual work of high tech art, equipped with pass codes to lock and unlock them; they were high out of Amelia's reach and kept her from taking an unpleasant tumble down stairs. Or from the elevator. She had finagled her way into it two days after she had gotten steady on her feet and Natasha and Steve had to implement a quick rescue mission before she got lost in the Tower. Now that she could walk, Amy kept the entire group of them on their toes.

They never thought chasing a toddler around would give them such a work out, but Amy was proving to be a challenge. She was fast. She was also quite clever and had an ever-present mischievous streak. Clint had to grab her off the table in the penthouse living room several times (but not until after he'd taken pictures of her triumphant face once she'd scaled the damn thing) before removing the piece of furniture altogether. Her infectious laughter drifted down the hallways whenever Pepper tried to wrangle her for a bath. There had been one instance where she had escaped the bathroom on her and Tony's level as Pepper had been trying to towel her off, and as a result, Amy ran butt naked back and forth across the entire floor. Tony swooped in with a towel and made some kind of smartass remark about public nudity coming from his side of the gene pool. Not that anyone was surprised. There were YouTube videos to prove this true.

Bed time was much, much worse—Bruce was still making the attempt to get her to sleep in her own room, in her crib, but after the whole Helicarrier incident, he'd retreated into a more cautious demeanor in Amy's presence. Tony was likely to give in rather than let her cry all night long, so Pepper found him snoring in the rocking chair by Amy's crib more often than not. Thor thought it would help to put some glow-in-the dark stars on the ceiling that he had seen awhile back on a shopping excursion with Pepper. It was sound logic considering they could most likely mirror the glow from Tony's arc reactor that Amelia couldn't sleep without. The idea was there, but the result wasn't what they had been hoping for. Amy wouldn't fall asleep otherwise, and even when she did, if she awoke and found herself alone, her panicked crying would bring at least one of her parents running to her nursery. It was an ongoing battle to get her to sleep soundly without one of them nearby.

It was a work in progress, if anything.

* * *

Halloween was two days away.

Even though neither of them had much of an opportunity to observe normal holidays, the team wanted to make it a big deal this year—it was Amelia's first Halloween, after all. Chances were she wouldn't remember a damn thing about it, but they would. (Or some of them would, if they didn't abuse the excuse to let the alcohol flow.) Pepper, who had many fond childhood Halloween holidays, was insistent about the whole thing. Parts of the Tower had been decorated with orange lights, fake spiders and cobwebs, and other faux "spooky" items.

Thor had the unfortunate privilege of waking up with fake cobwebs across his bed complete with a gigantic spider stuck in the middle that Clint and Tony had stolen from Pepper's steadily growing collection of decorations. Before he figured out the whole thing was fake in his groggy stupor, he'd demolished his bed and the plastic spider sailed out the window onto some equally unfortunate pedestrian. When Thor strode into the living room plastered in spider webs with Mjolnir clutched in his fist, Clint and Tony were practically rolling on the floor in hysterics. In his usual good-natured way, Thor smiled warmly and clapped them on the shoulder, saying he was appreciative of their (seemingly harmless) trickery.

Tony was supposed to be in charge of getting Amy's costume. He assured Pepper he had spent approximately two hours on Amazon with Amy sitting in his lap in an attempt to get her to pick something out. He even kicked Bruce out of the lab to do so. He claimed the shopping venture had been a success, now that Amy was picking up on her first simple words once encouraged and used gestures to indicate what she wanted. Tony then decided to keep everyone else in the dark about Amy's costume until now.

Pepper hadn't decided whether or not this had been a good idea.

"Is everyone in the living room because we're only doing this once," Tony called from the elevator.

"Yeah, Stark," Natasha replied, leaning against the arm of the couch. Pepper stood next to her, beaming, with a camera at the ready in her hands.

"Come on, Tony," she said. "Let's see her already."

The elevator door opened. "The mighty Avengersaurus, ladies and gents," Tony called.

He stepped out of the elevator behind Amy, who, by his encouragement, went running toward her parents. She stopped to turn back at Tony, and he shooed her forward. She was wearing a green T-Rex costume complete with a tail that swished back and forth while she ran. Her head was surrounded by a dinosaur headpiece hood with pointy felt teeth and a reptilian snout. Spiky ridges ran up the back of the costume, and one of the gloves on her hands was shoved in her mouth as she chewed on it.

"Avengersaurus," Steve said, laughing. "Nice one."

"Why am I not surprised?" Bruce said. He was forever the one coming up with creative nicknames for Amy. There was a list somewhere in the lab of the ones he'd come up with until he finally settled on Frankenvenger.

"Show 'em," Tony told Amelia, who continued to gnaw on the dinosaur hand glove. She remained still and looked expectantly over at Tony, who crossed his arms. "Aww, come on, we practiced. Remember? You have to show them." He made a motion, to Steve and Bruce's amusement, of T-Rex hands reaching forward.

Still, Amy persisted and shook her head. "No." That was one of her favorite new words as of late. It was still a thing for them to get used to—hearing the beginnings of her tiny voice.

Clint sprung off the couch and settled onto his knees beside Amy to reach what was somewhat her level. He struck a T-Rex like pose and let out a growl that resembled a dinosaur roar, hoping she would copy him. Natasha doubled over, laughing, wondering how Clint Barton, SHIELD agent and Clint Barton, goofball father, were one in the same.

"Rawrrrr!" Clint was really trying his best to be an impressive and threatening T-Rex, but he was doing a better job of making himself—and everyone else—laugh. Amy giggled back at him once she dislodged the dino glove from her mouth. Her gums were in full view (though the team figured they wouldn't be toothless for much longer), her nose crinkled up.

Amy let out a half-squeal, half dinosaur roar back at Clint, who almost fell forward onto his face when he heard it. Pepper took the opportunity to snap photos of the two of them, while Natasha fished out her phone.

"There we go," Clint managed to gasp out through his laughter.

Amy roared again, and Clint snatched her up into his arms, his hands tucked underneath her as he held her out in front of him. In midair, he made her swoop in on Steve, Bruce, and Thor while she alternated between infectious giggling and tiny T-Rex growls.

"Dinohawk!" he proclaimed in an oddly dangerous sounding movie announcer-like voice, dropping Amy carefully into Steve's lap. "Incoming!"

"Dinohawk? Sounds like a crappy science fiction movie," Tony muttered. "Sorry, pal, but you're way less threatening with a kid in your hands."

Not that Clint particularly cared.

* * *

As it turned out, Amelia was especially fond of her dinosaur costume. So much so that none of them could coax her out of it and into normal clothing or pajamas. She refused to wear anything else, and after her bath, Pepper had to give in and let her be Avengersaurus for the foreseeable future. It was cute as hell and a perfect occasion to get plenty of pictures of their daughter, particularly once she fell asleep or settled on the floor to play with her toys.

"We have retrieved the pumpkins," Thor announced the following afternoon upon entering the kitchen with Steve, Clint, Tony, and Bruce trailing behind him. Thor had about six different sized pumpkins balanced precariously in his arms; the others—except Steve, who carried two—each had a single large pumpkin.

Pepper and Natasha had been in the middle of preparing the table for the pumpkin carving shenanigans. (They'd left the pumpkin hunting to the boys, because they had been strangely enthusiastic about it.) Amy was stationary on the floor, preoccupied with a wooden spoon which she had been hurtling against the lower cabinets for the better part of a half an hour. Natasha had made the mistake earlier of allowing her a small pot to fashion into a sort of drum, but Amy had thrown it so hard against a cabinet door she'd left a dent in both of them. The spoon was the safest choice.

The hood of Amy's costume was down, exposing a messy tangle of brunette waves. She smiled up at the group, clapping her hands and calling out to them, "Da!" and her newest addition, "Papa!"

"What took you idiots so long?" Natasha asked, her eyes widening slightly at the abundance of pumpkins.

"We only needed, like, three. Why so many?" Pepper wanted to know.

"Ah, you can never have too many," Bruce said.

They deposited the pumpkins on one side of the wide kitchen table, where neat rows of newspaper and paper towels had been laid out across the surface. An array of newly purchased pumpkin carving knives sat at the center. Bruce presented a smaller palm-sized gourd to Natasha. A smiling face had already been painted on it in black.

"For Amy," he explained, "except you might want to keep it out of her hands until the last possible moment."

"Unless someone wants to wear pumpkin guts," Tony said. "Maybe Loki would be interested."

"Yeah, because he was so thrilled about wearing her baby puke last time," Clint said. He leaned against the counter next to Natasha and bumped his shoulder playfully against hers.

"Oh, and we were late because Goldilocks here kept racking up the pumpkin casualties," Tony stated.

"You mean there were _more_?" Pepper inquired. "You guys, we were never going to carve twelve of them. I said a _few_, not a whole pumpkin patch."

"Go big or go home," Tony said with a shrug.

"The employees weren't very happy with the pile of broken pumpkins we left there," Steve added. His tone was somewhat disapproving. The boys had left out the part where he had attempted to clean it up before he was forcibly dragged to the nearest cash register.

"Well, let's get started, shall we?" Pepper suggested.

Natasha scooped Amy off the floor and held her against her hip. She made her way over to their little pumpkin patch while the boys rolled up their sleeves and started to fight over who was going to do the carving first.

"Which one should we carve?" she asked Amy. "Which one do you want?"

Her small fingers glided over the tops of the pumpkin stems and the ridges in the orange exteriors. She withdrew her hand at the roughened bark before tapping her fingers on the top of the biggest one on the table. Bruce lifted the chosen pumpkin to the opposite end, and Natasha let Amy sit on the table top in front of Steve, who held onto her with care.

Somehow, it had been decided that Tony and Clint were going to carve another pumpkin while Pepper, Steve, and Bruce worked on the one Amy had picked out. Thor felt he had done enough damage to the pumpkins today and didn't want to risk it again, so he disappeared to see if he could get Loki to participate. He came back shortly after and unsurprisingly, Loki had rejected his offer.

Pepper cut into the top of the pumpkin and removed a circular chunk including the stem, which she set aside. Thor had joined Tony and Clint in their highly secretive pumpkin (any attempt by Natasha to determine what they were plotting was met with them blocking her view) and was eating the raw pumpkin seeds that Clint had thrown on the table.

"Dude, it's better if you toast them first, you know," Clint said to Thor, who was too busy merrily picking them out of the mush to give it any thought.

"All right, Amy," Pepper said, "help us pull out the pumpkin guts."

Amy watched what Clint and Tony were doing (which was making a gigantic mess on the floor instead of the table like they were children not much older than their daughter) and leaned over to have a peek inside the open pumpkin. She scrunched up her nose and scooted back against Steve. Bruce plunged one hand into the pumpkin and tugged out a fistful of orange goo and seeds.

"See?" he said. "It's not so bad."

Tentatively, Amy stuck her hand in the pumpkin. Her reaction was priceless. She shrieked and made a face that was a mix of disgust and pure delight, recoiling her hand at first.

Pepper matched Amy's wrinkled nose look. "Eww?"

"Eww!" she parroted.

Amy's expression soon turned to one of triumph when she dropped a small clump of seeds and mushy pumpkin onto the newspaper. She wiped the remnants, much to Steve's displeasure, on the front of his shirt.

"How nice of you," he chuckled.

They finished freeing the pumpkin guts and created a communal pile at the center of the table. Pepper had to keep Thor away from it because he kept picking out raw, unwashed pumpkin seeds. She started separating them herself and promised Thor she would toast them for him instead. Both sides went to work carving them, Amy watching as Steve took over to put a smiling, toothy grin into the pumpkin complete with triangular eyes and a nose. The guys' pumpkin, nearly done, was still a mystery. They wouldn't agree to reveal their handiwork until lit candles had been placed inside the pumpkins. Natasha cut the lights and lit two small candles, placing one inside the pumpkin in front of Amy and handing the other one over to Tony. Amy let out a gasp of surprise once the flame flickered from inside the pumpkin and illuminated its grinning face. She clapped her hands. The flame had her captivated. She pointed her index finger at it and glanced back at Pepper, Steve, Natasha, and Bruce.

"All right, boys," Pepper said. "Let's see it."

Clint did some sort of a drum roll before Tony turned the pumpkin toward the rest of the group. The candle inside lit up what appeared to be a giant A, strikingly similar to the one on the outside of the Tower.

"Clever," Natasha said.

Amy reached for it curiously. Bruce held onto her while she sat in front of it, gliding a slimy finger up and across the letter. It was almost as if she was trying to figure it out.

"Can you say 'A'?" Bruce asked. He repeated the sound, slowly, so she could process it. Amy thought it through. Steve repeated it, in an encouraging tone to get her to do the same.

She opened and closed her mouth, working it out, until, "A!"

"Very good!" Pepper said. "Talking already…" she shook her head, "she's growing up too fast for me."

"She's growing up too fast for anyone," Bruce agreed.

Amy tapped the glowing pumpkin. "A," she repeated. She was obviously proud of her accomplishment.

"A for Amelia," Steve said. "A for Avengers."

"Nice how that works out, doesn't it?" Tony asked.

But a hush had fallen on the rest of the group upon realization that their little girl was learning and getting older more quickly than either of them would have liked. Not that they could do anything about it—everyone knew it would happen, of course. Bruce had warned them of her rapid pace of development nowhere close to the rate of the average human's. In two weeks' time she could be reading and navigating the Tower on her own accord without the pesky gates (though Tony would probably still keep her out of the elevator). In a few short months, she could be a child of seven or nine—it was not easy to tell her exact age, after all. Amy could be talking to them and most likely, building her own gadgets, testing out her emerging strengths and weaknesses. It was a strange thought to the team, that a month or so from now, Amelia could be holding an intelligent conversation with them. And then what? Her preteen and teenage years would come flying toward them at full-speed?

That was frightening. More frightening because they could do nothing to stop it.

They knew from the start she would be different, but the team didn't exactly anticipate this overwhelming want to make Amelia's childhood last longer than a blink of an eye.

And because Tony hated to dwell on these things, he broke the mood with, "So, what're we planning to do with the extra pumpkins? Because, as long as they're just sitting there taking up space, I have a few ideas."

Clint and Thor looked much too eager for Tony's ideas to be good, _non-destructive_ ideas.


End file.
